William (Echoes of Ossiria #1)

by Vivian Lane

  I’d been following Catherine’s crumbs for months while keeping track of Tallis at the same time, never staying more than a few days in any one place.

  Alicia was happy to take over the reins of the business. She’d already been handling most of the daily operations, anyway.

  Moving about like this again, I realized I was lonely.

  Before, my concentration had been focused on Cassandra for one reason or another and I’d only been alone when we had a fight and she ran off. Those bouts never lasted more than a few weeks, though, before she was using our bond to call for me, needing me to cater to her whims. She had fascinated and enchanted me, but she’d never been a great conversationalist.

  Now, truly alone, I realized I liked company and intelligent company even more so.

  I missed Catherine.

  Perhaps it was for the best.

  It wasn’t wise to stay out here alone with all those hunters and pesky paladins on the warpath. At best, I’d be a little pile of ashes in a dark, smelly alley. At worst, locked up in one of their secret labs, never to smell fresh air again.

  Echoes of Ossiria

  Dive into a world with modern-day paladins, secret organizations, demons, vampires, magic, seers, and curses. Our heroes will have to learn how to save the day, or die trying.

  #0.5 - The First Vampires

  #1 – William

  #2 – Catherine

  #3 – Knight Rejects

  Seven Awakened

  Strange Allies

  Enthralled

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  About the Author

  Vivian Lane is an American author. Born a Gemini, her interests fall under a myriad of subjects including classical music, American and World History; fantasy books, TV shows, and movies; travel, marine biology, and fashion.

  Website. Blog. Facebook. Twitter.

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  CATHERINE

  When one monster kidnaps college girl Catherine, her only chance at freedom is to trust a different one. If she can’t discover a way out in six weeks, she’s dead.

  This story is intended for readers over the age of 18 due to adult language, sexual content, and adult situations.

  Sneak peek:

  1986

  A young man entered the café wearing a black sweater and dark jeans and ordered a black coffee. Catherine felt his gaze, and looked down, blushing. “Hi. May I sit here? Seems to be busy tonight.”

  She pushed her books to the side. “Oh, sure! I guess with the sudden cold turn, everybody wanted something warm,” she said quietly, and glanced down at the open book before her, unsure whether to close it or go back to reading.

  “What are you studying?” His eyes were green. She liked green.

  “History. With a minor in British Lit, just because I like it. I’m a bit of an overachiever, I guess.” Her cheeks reddened further.

  “We can learn a lot from the past,” he said. “I have a passion for art, myself.”

  “Really? I wouldn’t have guessed, I m-mean, you look more like a…” Her voice trailed off in embarrassment.

  “A jock? Well, there is a thrill to a good chase. My father would have preferred I go into the family business, but, I’m here. Do you like L.A., Miss…?”

  “Catherine Mitchell. Yeah, I guess… I’m used to it, I mean. I’m from the ‘burbs.”

  He managed to coax everything out of her after that: how her grandmother raised her after her parents died when she was twelve, that a college education had been a parting gift from her parents, and the grandmother was now in a nursing home with Alzheimer’s, and freshman year had been a bit lonely so far with the exception of her roommate.

  When the café announced it was closing, he walked her home to the dorm. “This is probably going to sound weird, but could I sketch you sometime?”

  Her eyes widened to comic proportions. “Me?”

  “I’ll understand if you don’t want to, it’s just…you’re so pretty, and I need to practice my life sketches. Forget it; you don’t even know me…” He started to walk away.

  “Wait. Um… I guess I could meet you in one of the art rooms…”

  “Thanks,” he said, sighing in relief. “Everybody already has a subject, and the assignment’s almost due. You saved me, Cate. Can I call you Cate?”

  She stroked her long hair behind her ear and blushed again. “I guess. I can meet you at the café tomorrow evening?”

  “Great,” he said with a smile. “I can’t wait.”

  He walked off, whistling to himself as he turned a corner.

  Catherine couldn’t believe she agreed to sit for some art project, but he’d sounded…desperate, and she knew what it was like to face a deadline here. He’d been nice and sweet and listened a lot. She was only a freshman, but there was already a lot of pressure.

  Setting her backpack on her bed, she looked at the mirror attached to the closet door. Pretty? She was okay. A nice enough figure for dressy clothes, if she could be bothered. Long, straight brown hair that she usually braided. Blue-gray eyes often hidden behind reading glasses since she was always studying. Five-foot-four was good enough—short enough to wear heels around men, tall enough for clothes to fit with ease.

  But pretty?

  Maybe his artist’s eye saw something she couldn’t.

  She shrugged and pulled her history book out. There was still another chapter to read before she went to bed.

  The next night, Catherine waited with her hot chocolate for him to show up at the café. She was really nervous, and hoped he wasn’t expecting her to pose nude. She didn’t have that kind of bravery.

  He showed up a couple minutes later dressed similarly to the previous day. “Hey. I’m really glad you showed up.”

  “I’m a girl of my word.”

  “Shall we?” They walked to the Art building to use one of the classrooms. He opened the door for her. “After you,” he said, then covered her face with a cloth as she passed him.

  She struggled but his hold was too tight. Her world went dark. She felt her body going limp.

  Arms caught her on the way down. He caressed her face with a cold finger, her soft skin prickling with goose bumps. “You’re entering a whole new world, Cate. We’re going to have so much fun!”

  What is he going to do to me?

  CATHERINE is available now in e-book and paperback.

  KNIGHT REJECTS

  The biography of a young modern-day paladin.

  Michael was introduced in the Epilogue of Catherine, Echoes of Ossiria: Origins #1. This is his origin story.

  This story is intended for readers over the age of 18 due to adult language, sexual content, and adult situations.

  Sneak peek:

  Leaving home. First time on a commercial flight. First and only time on a plane had been on The Agency’s private jet to a private island for war games as a last part of training before graduation.

  Everything I owned was in one duffel and one suitcase. I wasn’t coming back.

  Stuck it out for October to make sure I had the cash to relocate, then booked a flight that would take me to California, via a layover in New York City. The nonstop route was too expensive, and I’d never seen the Big Apple before except in movies.

  My seat assignment was a lucky one. “Hello, love,” I said to the cute brunette with the window seat.

  “Were you talking to me?” She closed a book. “Hi. You’re English.”

  “And you’re not. Let me guess…you took a year off to explore the world before college.”

  “Nothing so adventurous.” Her knee was bouncing with the movement of tapping her foot.

  “Nervous flyer?”

  “Uh, no. Just looking forward to going home.”

  “Must be a nice place to produce someone as lovely as yourself.” Yeah, I could turn on the charm when I wanted. In the name of starting a new life, I’d left my punk rock image behind, d
yeing my hair back to its natural brown, removing the piercings, and wearing clothes with no rips or safety pins. Bloody boring, really, but it meant I could talk to a nice girl like the one sitting next to me for hours.

  Her cheeks turned pink. “I don’t know about that.”

  “Then you must’ve forgotten what the mirror showed you this morning.”

  “Do you live in London?”

  “Until now. Born and raised. Nineteen years is enough, though.”

  “Are you moving to the US?”

  “Maybe. Haven’t decided. Got family in California, but I might only pop in for a visit on my way through.”

  “I’m from California.”

  “Small world.” I smiled and offered my hand. “Mike.”

  “Catherine.” A firm handshake. Surprising from a girl.

  “Pretty name. Southern or Northern?”

  “The state? Southern half, in the ‘burbs.”

  “I think my family is there. Town called Pasadena?”

  “Yep. That’s around twenty minutes from L.A.”

  “Perfect. You know, I’d love a tour guide if you’re heading home.”

  “No offense, Mike, but I’m not giving my final destination to a stranger.”

  “None taken. It’s smart. I’m a champion of smart women.”

  She giggled. “Are you?”

  “Sure. Smart, strong, feisty. Capable is sexy.”

  “That’s novel. Popular girls aren’t known for being brainy.”

  “They’re ‘popular’ because they spread their legs, love. Doesn’t make ‘em valued.”

  “A blonde with big boobs and long legs isn’t valued? Come on.”

  “Overrated.”

  “You’re pulling my leg now.”

  I laughed. “Really not. Been there, done that, got the broken heart to prove it. She wasn’t my type in the first place and I paid for it.” With interest.

  “Sorry. Did I strike a nerve?”

  “Nah.”

  “Is that what you’re moving away from, a bad break-up?”

  “Part of it. What made you visit Old Blighty? Tourism?”

  Her eyes darted down to the book. “Uh, no. I didn’t get to see much.”

  Long-honed instincts screamed at me. “Hey. Are you in trouble?” I murmured.

  “I’m okay.”

  “Sure? I can help.”

  She looked at me then. “Yeah. It’s cool.”

  “Alright…if you—”

  “Thanks, but I’m really okay, Mike. It just wasn’t a trip for fun.”

  “Okay. You can tell me to mind my own business. I don’t have to yammer on.”

  “No, it’s cool. I thought I’d want to sleep, but—”

  “Your brain is too awake?”

  “Exactly. You, too?”

  “I’ve got some nerves, yeah. Does it always take so long to take off?” A grocery bag of tapes and my Walkman was stowed under the seat.

  “Wouldn’t know.” She peered out the window. Runnin’ from someone or something, no matter what she said. “Guess we’re waiting our turn in line.” Lifting a purse onto her lap, she rooted around in there until she produced a pack of—“ Gum?”

  “Is my breath that bad?”

  “No, no…chewing it helps your ears with climbing altitude so the pressure doesn’t hurt.”

  “Ohhh…would’ve been handy the first time I was on a plane.” I took one.

  “Got the tip when I was sent to live with my grandmother.” She popped the stick in her mouth.

  “Oh?”

  “My parents died a few years ago. It’s okay. I mean, it sucks, but Grams did a good job.”

  “Don’t know my dad and haven’t spoken to my mother in years. Would’ve been nice to have extended family, but then I’d probably be too soft to strike out on my own.”

  “Moving into a dorm was scary…all those strangers including a roommate. She’s nice, though, thank God. Oh!” The plane started rolling and the engines got louder. She smiled at me. Getting off English soil seemed to ease her burdens. “Finally!”

  “Now you’re stuck with me for seven hours.”

  “I can always ask to move if you get obnoxious. Ready to time travel?”

  “Huh?”

  “Time zones. We’re flying into the past.”

  “Oh. Right.” Math had never been my strong suit.

  “The East Coast is five hours behind London, so it’ll be around 9:30 in the evening when we disembark.”

  “What about California?”

  “Flight is around five hours non-stop from NYC and Pacific Time is three hours earlier. If you left at midnight it would be 2:00AM in L.A. when you land.”

  “Putting my internal clock at 10:00AM London time, buggering up my sleep schedule.”

  “Who sleeps at ten?”

  “I worked nights.”

  “Oh. Duh. Sorry. That’s brutal.”

  “You get used to it.”

  “I’ve missed sunlight.”

  “London weather hasn’t been so bad lately.”

  “Wouldn’t know. Spent most of my time indoors.”

  “Who would do such a thing to a girl like you?”

  “I hope they turn the seatbelt sign off soon. I need to use the restroom.”

  Another deflection. She definitely wasn’t comfortable talking about her time here, which wouldn’t make sense regarding a normal vacation or work trip. Something had happened to the poor girl.

  Catherine was up as soon as movement around the cabin was allowed. I pulled my legs in as far as they’d go to let her by. Long hair swept by my face, leaving a sweet fragrance in her wake. Really a lovely girl, with more class than I was used to talking to. Out of my league, to be honest. She deserved a nice man who’d eventually give her the white fence and two-point-five kids.

  Five minutes later, she returned. “I promise I won’t get up often,” she said. The plane hit a bump of turbulence. Out of reflex, I grabbed her hips to steady her, her hands falling on the top of the seat at the same time. “Sorry!”

  “You can fall on me any time, love.” I winked. She blushed, and moved into her seat. I wanted to know if she turned pink other places besides her face. The turtleneck and jeans kept her well-covered, hidden. Denim by Calvin Klein…yes, definitely out of my league, but that didn’t matter to my libido. Hadn’t had my hands on female flesh in months and now temptation was right next to me. “Peanut?”

  “No thank you. I’m allergic.”

  “Good to know.”

  “Not in a bad way, and only if I eat them. I miss peanut butter, though. Wake me when they’re serving dinner, please.” She reclined her seat, pulled her coat over her shoulders, and turned away from me.

  So much for company. I loaded the Walkman and stuck my headphones on my ears. The Sony player and decent speakers had been my one extravagance with my Agency pay.

  I poked Catherine’s shoulder. “Hey, look at the sunset.” Since we were heading west, there was a spectacular view out the window. It would be brilliant if the plane went fast enough to chase it all the way to New York.

  Supper was served on real plates with real silverware, an experience I’d only ever had in restaurants outside of Sanctuary. The chicken wasn’t half bad. Did my best to not bump her with my elbow when I cut the meat. She’d gone quiet, and picked up her book after the meal.

  A movie was shown then. Five dollars for headphones to listen to it? Please! Don’t know why they bothered…most people couldn’t see the screen, anyway.

  The flight was boring after dark. The instinctual itch to hunt rose up in me like every night, yet there was nowhere to aim my energy. Not even enough room for a brisk walk. A boat would’ve been a lot slower, but at least I could stretch my muscles. How did businessmen do this all the time?

  “Could you stop bouncing your knee, please? You’re jiggling the seat,” Catherine said.

  “Sorry, love. A bit of cabin fever. Not used to bein’ cooped up in a box for several hours.” />
  She looked up at me through a pair of granny reading glasses that suited her somehow. “You were a hyper kid, weren’t you?”

  “If that means active, yeah, I s’pose so. Better than bein’ at home. In my neighborhood, you had to be the scrappy sort to get by. As you can see, I came out alright.”

  “I hope you weren’t the neighborhood bully.”

  “The opposite. A small lad before my teens. Didn’t stop me from defending myself, though. I’m going to guess you grew up a product of the American Dream, with your nose in a book.”

  “Is it that obvious? Of course it is. I was a nerd until, uh, very recently. Well, I still am, but I guess I don’t look the part as much anymore.”

  “You went to London for a makeover?”

  “Yes, well…and no. Long story that doesn’t matter now. Back on topic, my childhood was pretty great. Sheltered, happy. My parents loved each other and loved us. My foster brother was a jock, but I was happy curled up in a chair with a good story.”

  “The perfect student.”

  She blushed. “Yeah. I like learning. My goal when I entered college was to become a teacher.”

  “And now?”

  “I don’t know. I’m figuring that out.”

  “Well, you’ve got plenty of time. Long life ahead and all that.”

  “Yeah. It’s what adulthood is about, isn’t it? Figuring out where and what you want to be.”

  “Be nice if there was a manual.”

  She laughed. “Indeed.”

  Catherine returned to her book and me to my headphones. Sometime during the night, weight fell on my shoulder. Asleep, her head leaned on my upper arm. Should I prop her back up? Let her stay? Wake her? The arm rest was down between us and it couldn’t be comfortable to lean her ribs on it. The book lay open on her lap; she hadn’t meant to fall asleep.

  Honestly, I didn’t mind being a living pillow. Meant I was needed, even in the smallest way. After three years of service, I craved that.