The Forever Queen (Pendragon Book 2)

by Nicola S. Dorrington

  Book One: The Last Knight

  Book Two: The Forever Queen

  The West Haven Series

  Book One: Chasing Freedom

  Book 1.5: Blood Calling

  Book Two: Being Alpha (Coming Autumn 2015)

  Sneak Peek of The West Haven Series Book One: Chasing Freedom

  1

  On the Run

  He was going to die. His heart knew it, hammering away as though trying to make every last beat count. He crouched, panting for breath, fingers clutching the stitch in his side. Coppery, thick blood trickled into his mouth from a gash on his lip, and he shivered uncontrollably in the cold, foggy night. He was trapped. Instinct screamed at him to fight, but logic overruled it. Fight and he would die. Hide and he might just survive the night. The hunt was over, but Chase Finn wasn’t ready to die just yet.

  Rain dripped down the back of his collar from a broken drainpipe and he shivered more violently. He hadn’t slept in two days and he couldn’t remember the last time he’d eaten. There hadn’t been time. All he could do was run. Run, hide, and pray they never found him.

  He wedged himself further down between the dustbin and the wall. The space was too small for his tall frame; his shoulders scraped against the brickwork and his right calf muscle began to cramp. He tried to ignore it and squinted through the rain.

  He scanned his surroundings, looking for an escape route he knew didn’t exist. There wasn’t much to see; illumination from the streetlight reached less than a foot into the alleyway. The rest remained in darkness. Chase could only just make out the stack of crates a little further down, and rubbish spilt across the ground from an overturned dustbin.

  Sucking in a breath the cool air stung his throat and lungs. For a moment he felt calmer - until he heard the sound of slow, steady footsteps approaching the alley.

  “He came down here.”

  Chase risked a glance from behind the bin. Two men stood silhouetted against the orange glow of the streetlight. One kept watch out towards the cars by the kerb; the other peered into the alleyway.

  “Maybe he did, maybe he didn’t, but I’m not going down there to look. They’re vicious when they’re cornered.” The smaller of the two men looked away from the street and then back again, shifting uncomfortably.

  Chase watched them, his heart in his mouth. Keep going, you bastards.

  “You wanna get paid?” The taller man edged into the alley and Chase tensed. “We got a bounty. We don’t bring him in, we get no money.” He took another two steps, but didn’t seem to want to go further without backup.

  The smaller man clenched his fists at his sides then reached into his jacket. Light glinted on the metal of a gun as he followed his companion into the alley. They edged forward, watching every shadow for movement.

  Taking a deep breath, Chase tried to stop the wild beating of his heart, irrationally afraid it would give him away. There was nowhere left to run. Logic be damned, fighting was the only choice he had.

  He waited, a low growl reverberating in his throat, until they were only a few feet away before springing. Chase tackled the larger man full in the chest, sending him reeling backwards into the brick wall. They both fell, but Chase rolled onto his knees and scrambled upright. The man was still struggling to his feet as Chase whirled around – only to find himself stood face-to-face with the barrel of a gun. Before he could react the butt of the weapon smashed into his temple. Lights exploded behind his eyes and he staggered backwards.

  “Easy now, mate,” the smaller man murmured as Chase regained his footing and lunged back towards him. “I don’t want to hurt you. I get more if I take you in unharmed.”

  Chase took another step forward and snarled.

  Sighing, the man raised his weapon again; this time pointed at Chase’s chest, and pulled the trigger.

  Staggering back with the impact Chase looked down, expecting to see blood; instead he saw a small feathered dart. Numbness spread across his chest and his vision blurred.

  “What…what did you…?”

  “Don’t worry, mate, you’ll be fine.” The man holstered his gun, watching as Chase stumbled back against the wall. His companion stepped forward and grabbed the boy before he fell, twisting his arms up behind him.

  Chase fought the darkness creeping in at the edge of his vision, and struggled against the fingers digging into his upper arms. But the darkness and numbness were winning. He knew he should be terrified, but instead he felt a strange sense of relief. He could finally stop running.

  “You might want to let him go.”

  The unfamiliar voice seemed to come from the end of a long tunnel. Chase blinked and tried to focus. Someone stood behind the smaller of the two men - a man with a pale face and cold blue eyes.

  Their eyes met and the man smiled just as Chase slipped into darkness.

  An English summer had, for once, lived up to expectations. It was eight in the evening, on the 29th of August, and the sun had not yet set. A faint breeze chased away the last of the day’s heat, leaving the evening cool and fresh.

  The long summer had turned the grass of the Common dry and brown, but it still passed as a football, cricket and rugby field to the locals. At the far end t-shirts and water bottles had been heaped to stand as the markers for a try-line and a group of teenagers sweated and panted as they played a game of seven a-side rugby.

  “Oi, Chase, pass the bloody ball.”

  Chase sidestepped one of the opposition, and ignored the shout, determined to score.

  The next flying tackle caught him round the knees but he stretched himself out to slam the ball down on the other side of the try-line markers.

  He gasped for breath as someone nudged him none too gently with one foot.

  “Hey Mike, I think you killed him.”

  “Just winded!” Chase groaned and sat up with one hand still to his ribs. He grinned triumphantly. “I scored though.”

  As Mike yanked him to his feet his team mates slapped him on the back and he endured good natured abuse from the others.

  He glanced at his watch before grabbing the ball off the ground. “Now I’d love to give you lot the chance to level up the score, but I’ve gotta get home. Mum’s orders. Last night before school and all that.” He made a face as he dug his t-shirt out of the pile and pulled it on. It was mostly just for show. He loved his mum’s home cooking, and missed it when he got stuck eating school diners through the year. Plus his dad had promised to take him for a spin in the new car, a hard-top Jaguar convertible, and tonight was his last chance before going back to school.

  “Yeah right, you’re just worried we’ll kick your arse,” Mike said, slapping him on the back, and distracting him from his thoughts. “Never mind, we’ll do it when you’re back for Christmas.”

  “In your dreams.” He waved over his shoulder as he made his way out of the park and onto the main road. “See you later, guys.”

  The light had started to fade as Chase crossed the road and took his usual shortcut down a back alley. The sun slipped below the horizon, and overhead the full moon had already risen. Green wheelie bins stuck out of garden gates creating shadows in the dusk and a startled cat shot over a fence as he approached. In the distance a dog barked. Yet around him the night was almost eerily still and quiet.

  Tucking the ball more securely under his arm he smiled to himself. Going back to boarding school was not as bad as he made out. Sure, sitting in a classroom every day did not appeal, but getting back to proper rugby training did. As did the thought of seeing Ellie again. Hottest girl in school, and she had definitely been showing an interest in him towards the end of last term. The fact he’d grown another inch over the summer and now pushed six four and had convinced his mother not to give him her usual back-to-school crew cut was only going to help his chances. Plus he’d spent three weeks in the Cayman Islands visiting his cousin and he reckoned he was pulling off the shaggy haired, sun-bleached surfer look pretty well. His grin widened at the thought.


  Half way home, the silence broke as a growl rose from behind him. It interrupted his daydream about Ellie, and he paused. Looking back, nothing moved. As he started to walk on he heard the padding of paws on the tarmac. He stopped again.

  The deep throated growl came again, growing louder. Out from the shadows stalked the biggest dog he had ever seen. In the moonlight he couldn’t tell what breed, all he saw were gleaming fangs.

  The beast sprang. Chase sidestepped, like he was avoiding a tackle, but one great paw caught him on the shoulder. His foot twisted and the pavement came up to meet him. The creature leapt on him in seconds, its hot breath on his face. He flung up one arm as the jaws swung down and he blacked out as his body exploded with pain.

  It was like moving through thick fog. Chase’s entire body felt like lead, and his eyes wouldn’t open. He knew he was awake though. He could sense movement around him, and could hear the clinking of metal, the purring of a machine – and voices.

  “They nearly got another one then?” A woman’s voice, low and rich. He felt fingers brush his forehead. “Do they have to be so rough with them, Peter?” she added a moment later.

  They? A memory stirred in Chase’s sluggish mind. Those two men. Their guns. He fought to wake up properly, but his body remained unresponsive.

  A man Chase assumed was Peter spoke. “Sometimes they don’t have a choice.” Chase heard the clacking of keys. “Look.”

  “Lycanthropy?” the woman asked.

  “Almost definitely. It’s quite close to the full moon as well. They would have struggled to restrain him. You know how the wolf can take over.”

  They know. They know what I am. Chase fought harder to wake up, and with a thrill of fear realised why he couldn’t move; he was tied down. Leather straps bound his legs and arms to cold metal, and another stretched across his chest.

  “He’s waking up.” The man moved closer to Chase. “Quickly, Silver, fetch another dose of sedative. He’ll hurt himself.”

  With what felt like superhuman effort, Chase managed to open his eyes. The first thing he saw was an older man leaning over him. The man’s glasses sat so far down his nose they were in danger of falling off, and his grey hair looked like it hadn’t been brushed in a month. His eyes were wide and nervous, but he tried to give Chase a reassuring smile.

  “Calm down. Relax. You’re safe.”

  Struggling against his bonds, Chase ripped one arm out of the strap holding it. The woman, Silver, approached with a syringe in her hand. He knocked it away.

  “Who are you? What the hell are you doing to me?” His voice came out as a hoarse whisper even though he wanted to shout.

  “We’re trying to help. Please calm down.”

  “No, you’re with them. Those men!” He fought harder. “They tried to kill me.”

  “No they didn’t. They darted you, to bring you in to the Department alive, but we got to you in time.”

  “Who? What?” Chase fought to remember, but he felt a sharp prick in his arm. He turned his head to see the silver haired woman stepping away, the syringe back in her hand, an apologetic look in her eyes. He looked at her in horror as the room began to spin around him.

  “Why the hell didn’t Maladict tell him he was there to help?” he heard Silver ask.

  “The Department must have reached him first. He ran from them, and when Maladict turned up he must have assumed they were all on the same side.” Peter sounded old and tired.

  Chase started to black out again, the voices fading with the light.

  Consciousness returned and Chase cracked open his eyes. A fluorescent light buzzed overhead. The ceiling was so bright it felt like someone sticking needles in his eyes. He winced, snapping them shut, listening instead. Somewhere close by he could hear the soft purr of a machine, a gentle and regular beeping, and the sound of distant voices. The straps that had held him down were gone, and for the briefest of moments he considered making a run for it. No. He was tired of running, tired of fighting.

  Then, very close at hand, he heard something else.

  “I know you’re there,” he said without opening his eyes. “I can hear you breathing.”

  He heard a soft exclamation; female he guessed, and a gentle hand covered his eyes.

  “Open your eyes slowly. The sedative can make you a bit sensitive to light. Let me know when they’ve adjusted and I’ll move my hand.” She had a soft voice, trembling a little with nerves.

  Chase did as she asked. At first he could see nothing, but then the girl lifted her hand a fraction and light filtered in. He could make out the contours of her fingers, and a simple silver ring.

  After a few minutes he nodded, and the hand lifted. He looked up into a pair of green eyes framed by dark lashes and then she disappeared from view.

  “Who are you? Where on earth am I? What the hell happened?” He struggled to sit up, but couldn’t get his body to move.

  “One question at a time,” the girl said with a soft chuckle. She moved around just out of his line of vision and returned with a cup of water. She set it down on the table beside him and helped him to sit up. He winced as the movement sent sharp shooting pains across his chest, making his head spin. An IV line stuck out of his arm and two small disks had been taped to the bare skin of his chest, wires trailing over to a monitor.

  He took a sip of water. “Who are you?”

  “I’m Victoria.” She moved away from him again and he craned his neck trying to keep her in sight. At first he thought she was quite young, but looking at her more closely, he guessed she was about seventeen, same as him, just rather tiny. She had to be at least a foot shorter than him as was built like a bird, all thin, delicate bones. “Most people around here just call me Vix.”

  “So, where on earth am I?” He coughed as his throat protested its lack of use. He gulped down more water. As she continued to move around without a word, his patience snapped. “Would you just stop and answer my damn question?”

  She stopped dead and her expression tightened for a moment. Her eyes softened almost immediately. “You really don’t know? You’re in West Haven.”

  “Where and what is West Haven?”

  She reached out one hand to touch his face, ignoring his question, and he flinched away from it. She rolled her eyes. “I’m not going to hurt you, but you’ve got a nasty gash on your head and I just want to check the dressing.”

  “What are you? Some kind of nurse?” He couldn’t help being defensive, but he let her touch his scalp with gentle fingers. He winced as she brushed the throbbing lump where the gun had caught him. When her fingers trailed down to the cut on his lip he had to stifle the small shiver that ran through him. Her fingers were incredibly soft, and she really was very pretty. Time and a place, he mentally chastised himself.

  “I’m not a nurse, no. But Peter often asks me to watch over the new arrivals.” She gave him a tiny smile. “He thinks I have a calming influence.”

  “Peter? The old guy? Who is he?”

  She chuckled. “You know, most new arrivals are so dazed they can barely string two words together when they first wake up. You on the other hand…”

  Chase really wasn’t sure it was a laughing matter. “Listen, the last thing I remember was being chased by two lunatics with guns - one of them shot me. Then I wake up here. I want to know what’s going on.”

  She looked at him intently for a moment, and glanced towards the door at the end of the room. She turned back to him, chewing on her lower lip. “All right. Do you know why those men were after you?”

  Chase looked away, his whole body stiffening. “Because…because I’m different.”

  “Because you’re a werewolf,” Victoria corrected him.

  She didn’t sound frightened or revolted, and that surprised him more than the fact she knew what he was. For a moment Chase was so shocked that he simply stared at her.

  “You’re not the only one,” she said with a shrug.

  “Are you a werewolf?”

  She smir
ked. “No, I’m a shape-shifter. I can take on the form of almost any animal I like. I prefer foxes. But we have all sorts here. Witches, psychics, werewolves, the list goes on.”

  He choked slightly on the blasé way she said it. Witches, psychics, shape-shifters, the very words made his flesh creep. He didn’t want to believe her. He wanted to scoff, but as the guy to whom the word werewolf applied he was hardly in a position to mock. Instead he tried to focus on the questions he might actually get answers to. “Even if I believe you, why are they all here? What exactly is West Haven?”

  “I suppose it’s a special home of sorts. Runaways and escapees from The Department.”

  “The Department?”

  A new voice spoke from the doorway, “Those lovely gentlemen who smacked you over the head and tranquilised you.”

  Chase turned to look. A young man lounged against the doorframe. He looked tall, easily six foot or more, and almost too slim for his height. Dark hair hung long to his shoulders and his eyes were such a light blue they looked almost clear. There was something familiar about him.

  As the man stepped into the room a strange smell came with him, a dry, musty kind of smell. Chase felt the hairs on the back of his neck stand up, and a growl started low in his throat.

  “Easy. Good doggy,” the man said approaching the bed.

  Chase grimaced and flushed, more embarrassed by the involuntary noise than angry about being called ‘doggy’. “Sorry.”

  “Don’t be. It’s a natural reaction to my kind.”

  “Your kind?” Chase forced the words out between clenched teeth as he tried to keep the growl in.

  “Vampire.” He smiled, revealing two perfect, elongated canines. “Maladict’s the name.”

  Chase shot backwards on the bed when Maladict held out his hand to shake. Vampire. The word made his skin crawl. He’d never been a fan of horror films, but even he’d seen “Dracula.”

  “Vampire?” His voice trembled as he said it, and he swore at himself for letting the fear show. “You…”