Call of the Wylde

by Cynnara Tregarth

  Call of the Wylde

  By Cynnara Tregarth

  Triskelion Publishing

  www.triskelionpublishing.com

  Published by Triskelion Publishing www.triskelionpublishing.com 15508 W. Bell Rd. #101, PMB #502, Surprise, AZ 85374 U.S.A.

  First e-published by Triskelion Publishing First e-publishing February 2005

  ISBN 1-932866-80-9 Copyright © Cynnara Tregarth 2004 All rights reserved.

  Cover art by Triskelion Publishing

  PUBLISHER’S NOTE: This is a work of fiction. Names, characters places, and incidents are the product of the author’s imagination. Any resemblance to persons living or dead, business establishments, events or locales is entirely coincidental.

  Dedication

  To the real Colette- Here he is, just for you. Hope O satisfies and delivers all you need and more>. LOL! To my kids: Tris, Drew, and Zack- I love you three very much and want to thank you for being there for me. All my best wishes are for you. To Heather, Latesha, Vi, and Tam-Thanks to some of the greatest friends a girl could have. You know if this keeps up, I might be like an author or something. Thanks for your love and support. It means a lot. To Shar and Lisa- My heart sisters, what can I say but thank you. Without you, I’d only be half a person. With you, I’m better than I’d be without you. Thank you for everything. To Jaime, Tracey, my mom and dad- Your pushing and encouragement has been simply amazing to me. Thank you for believing in me with my writing. It has changed me in ways I can’t tell you. To the men in my life (You know who you are!)- Thank you for being my friend, my Partner In Crime, and my supporter. Without you guys, who knows where I’d be or how well I’d be able to keep the males in my story from being too wussy. Muah! To Therese MacFarland—Thanks for your help and your friendship! It means the world to me. To the guys at 162 INF—Thank you for your service and your commitment to peace worldwide. Mark,

  Zach, Scott, and the rest, you all are the true heroes in any life. Thank you for your friendship. I love you all. Tiki Hut Rules!

  Prologue

  >The lone Druid wrapped in black robes approached the sacred ground. Though cursed by the gods, he was determined to win some kind of concession from the goddess who cursed he and his brethren.

  Miach tossed the head of his enemy at the feet of The Morrigan. Her lavender eyes flashed in anger. “How dare you dishonour this sacred space?”

  “Here’s the reason for my brothers and I being cursed, The Morrigan.” The tall dark haired man stood unmoving as the goddess approached him. “These men slaughtered the nearby village of Caer Awyddion. This one,” he nodded at the head, “was the one who told us that you’d changed your mind in how to carry out your order.”

  The woman’s eyes looked at the head before her. A mark showed up on the back of the man’s neck, visible only to those of the Pantheonic Realm. Taranis! How dare you? I shall get even with you. You and I know what these men were to me. You made me curse them to an eternal life of unhappiness.

  “I see perhaps I was too hasty in damning you and the others. However, I cannot remove it. Miach, I shall give you a way out though,” The Morrigan said as she unconsciously smoothed back a black tress. “Though you and your family are cursed to walk the earth forever as preternatural creatures, I shall grant you freedom through soulmates. If the woman you love bears my mark, then you’re free. However, she must love you for what you are now and you must respect her powers as equal to your own.”

  “Done. We never meant to disappoint you. All of us were deceived.”

  The Morrigan removed something around her neck. Tossing it to the ground before Miach, she nodded to it. “This is how you’ll know. If the woman’s mark matches the marking on my torc, she’s possibly a soulmate to one of you. It will only glow if the person placing it on her is also her soulmate. Now leave this place, unclean one. Go and hunt the world’s evil.”

  Miach bowed his head as he retrieved the silver necklace. “Thank you, Morrigu. We will look for the women. Perhaps this way we can be what you wanted of us in the beginning.”

  “One can hope. I shall deal with the others who bear the mark of the storm and war god,” The Morrigan announced, her voice colder than ice.

  Miach’s blue eyes flashed in controlled anger. As he turned on his heel, he said, “If we catch the god in avatar form off of sacred ground, we will use our combined knowledge to destroy him. Be warned. Not even Arawn can prevent us from taking our revenge.”

  An agonal scream rented the air as the souls of past, present, and future warriors protested against something beyond comprehension to the spirit realm. The Morrigan sunk to her knees as she let out another cry.

  “No, I cannot believe he’d do this! How dare he cause war upon my servants?”

  Miach gathered up the goddess in his arms. Though he knew the punishment of holding her was death to those cursed, he couldn’t help following his training as a Druid and that as a man. “What’s wrong, my goddess?”

  “Gone, they’re all gone. The women of Caer Arian are gone. Those who were dedicated to me and marked by me are dead.” She paused. “May the blood of his followers be spilt in retribution by this deed. Let him suffer agony for what he’s done.”

  Miach’s heart clenched. So, it was over after all. There was no way that he or his brothers would ever be free. Once again, they were bound to the night with no salvation. No woman would ever be found with the mark of The Morrigan.

  They would roam the earth as Marauders, always preying on those who’d destroy the lives they protected. There would be no release. None.

  Chapter One

  >Owain swung forward, his arms holding the pipe as he propelled his legs to surround the neck of the scampering man. With a quick twist of his torso, the man’s neck gave with a sickening pop. As he fell into a heap, Owain gracefully landed beside him. He brushed a stray lock of hair out of his face as he squatted down.

  Working quickly, he reached into the pouch at his waist removing some equipment. Without breaking his rhythm, Owain rolled up one of the sleeves of the nosferu then inserted the needle into the arm. Attaching the tube, blood flowed into it. Once it was finished, he attached a second while sliding the first tube into the pouch.

  He must’ve fed recently. The colour is rich and dark, not from dehydration. The smell of the blood leaking from around the needle filled Owain’s senses. His body tightened in need as he removed the needle from the other vampire’s arm. Hunger taunted him as he placed his fingertips over the needle mark causing it to heal and fade.

  The man began twitching, a sign that the neck injury was healing quickly. Owain only had a couple of minutes to decide the fate of this “blood sucker” as the “Helsingers” or vampire slayers sometimes called vampires. He had to either let him go or kill him now. Recalling all he knew about the man, Owain realized that there wasn’t much choice at all.

  He grabbed the vampire by the shirt so that his head lolled to one side. Owain knew that he’d pay an instant price for feeding from another vampire, but he had to eat. At least the vampire’s blood would prevent him from having to feed too soon, but having to deal with the psychic imprint of the nosferu for a few hours wasn’t fun.

  A growl from the vampire warned Owain his time was up. He opened his mouth as his incisors lengthened. Clamping down on the side of the neck where the carotid arteries lay, he began to drink. Owain hated himself for having to drink blood, but in this case, the vampire was a known killer. He normally didn’t kill his prey, but for this one, it would be justice served.

  * * *

  Colette double-checked her surroundings, making sure no night patrolmen spotted her. Granted this was Cairo, Egypt, and not many hung about the warehouse area. Making sure she put on her skintight gloves,
she entered the warehouse before her. Inside was Hafid al Masur, the vampire she would kill before dawn. Once he was gone, she could resume a normal life, no longer one of the Helsingers.

  Who’d have thought that less than three months ago, she’d have gone from an easy going obstetrics doctor to killing vampires. If that rogue vampire gang hadn’t killed her baby sister and nephew, this would’ve never happened. But it had, and now this daughter of The Morrigan walked the battlefields between slayer and vampires.

  Unsheathing her solid silver daggers, Colette entered the building. She stuck close to the shadows to avoid detection. The warehouse was huge and empty except for some stacks of crates. She let her eyes adjust to the dark, trusting in The Morrigan to let her see her opponent in her vengeance for her family.

  She tamped down her fear, knowing that taking this life would hurt her. When she became a doctor, she swore to protect life, not to take it. But being raised as a Celtic Shaman in service to the goddess of war, Colette knew that her bloodthirsty heritage would be part of her life anyway.

  A noise in the center of the room caught her attention. She crept towards the soft noise, keeping to the shadows for cover. Once this death was accomplished, Colette could put away her daggers for her doctor’s bag and she couldn’t wait. Hafid was the last one that she tracked down. Now he was just behind the crates awaiting the death she swore when she found her family slaughtered.

  Carefully, Colette slid against one crate as she turned the corner. Before her was the man who killed her family. The Morrigan would help her slay this foul man for that action. She noticed that he was feeding. A cry ripped from her throat as she lunged at the creature.

  Owain whipped around to see a woman dressed in all black come at him, her daggers glinting in the faint light. He sat back on his heels as she tried to stab him. His hand caught her one wrist while he twisted out of reach of the other dagger.

  Squeezing her wrist on the nerve, Owain caused her to drop one blade. “What the hell is your problem, woman?” He spun her so she landed on her ass in front of him. Beside her was the dead vampire, no life or unlife left in him.

  “You killed my sister and my nephew! I’m going to exact my revenge! May The Morrigan guide my hand,” she retorted throwing the dagger at Owain’s face.

  Owain dodged the blade and he rushed to Colette. Grabbing her, he shook her. “Listen to me, I’m not who you think I am. I just killed your enemy. Look next to you.” He pointed to the body.

  Colette turned her head and saw the body next to her, pale and lifeless. Placing a hand on the carotid to feel for a pulse, she pulled it back and noticed blood. “Who are you?”

  “I’ve been hunting this fellow down for a while. I see you’re a Helsinger, slayer. You can have this as your kill. He deserved death,” Owen responded, not directly answering her question.

  Colette nodded as she looked at Owain. “You’re a vampire too, aren’t you?” Her eyes latched onto his. She could feel the pull of his deep mocha eyes to trust in him, to believe in him. She knew it was part of the hypnotic lure of the nosferu.

  Owain agreed quietly. “Yes, but not by choice. My name is Owain.”

  “Colette. By rights, I should kill you, but you’ve helped me end my family blood debt. The Morrigan wouldn’t like me to kill someone who assisted me in that.”

  Sitting straighter, he looked at the woman before him. Her blondish brown hair was pulled back in a ponytail and her bright blue eyes were swirling with depths he could only dream of knowing. But it was the power in her aura surrounding her that captured his attention. “You serve Morrigu?”

  “How do you know of her Welsh name? Are you droi?”

  Owain laughed. “You could say I’m a druid. I’m a doctor. One of my brother’s is a Celtic historian. We all are familiar with Celtic myths as we’re from Wales originally.”

  Colette held out her hand. “Owain, my thanks then. Bendithion be with you as you walk your path. My blood debt is over. I should head for home, after I sleep for a day or two,” she said, a nervous laugh emerging at the end. This gorgeous man knows of the Druidic path that her family walked. Somehow she could almost picture him as one, wild, untamed with his flowing dark hair, muscular build, and his slight accent.

  “I’ll escort you to your hotel, Colette. That way we can make sure that there’s no others of his group around.”

  Owain held out his hand, helping her to rise to her feet. She still had to look up at him, even though she wasn’t short at five foot six inches tall. He was a good five inches taller.

  “I’d like that. Maybe we can discuss why we were both hunting Hafid,” she said, a wistful tone apparent, even to her.

  “Sure.” With that, Owain escorted her back out the warehouse, stopping only to retrieve her daggers for her. Silently he handed them to her, noting that they were warm to the touch, a sign that ritual magick had been done to them.

  Once in his car, Colette tried to remain calm as she realized she was riding with an admitted vampire. His sleek profile reminded her of someone, but she wasn’t sure of whom.

  “You’re not leaving your car behind, are you?” He glanced at her, seeing the caress of the moon on her features.

  “I took a taxi here.” She looked away from him, staring at the traffic. “I didn’t want to leave any traces behind if things went wrong.”

  Owain nodded. “Smart idea. You’re staying at the American?”

  She gave her assent and stared again at his profile. Something about him reminded her of a man she had yet to thank for some of her training. “Niam. You’re related to Niam Maraigh, aren’t you?”

  Lifting a dark brown brow, he said nothing at first. Finally, he spoke, his voice low and his accent a bit more pronounced. “How do you know Niam?”

  Colette inhaled before answering. It wasn’t an easy thing to admit to. “Niam taught me the art of destroying nosferu. He told me that his brother was trying to find how they were created.”

  They rode quietly a bit longer until the American Hotel came into view. It was on the outskirts of Cairo, where tourists could have a view of the pyramids and the Sphinx. Owain pulled into the parking lot and threw the car into park. Turning in his seat, he reached over to grab Colette’s hand.

  “He and I are twins. What do you really know of us?”

  Colette pulled her hand back. She hesitated then began to tell what she knew. “I know that Niam isn’t a normal human. Niam told me of a story, one about The Morrigan, a legend I had never heard. “

  “Which tale?”

  “It’s a tale of a band of Druids who were wrongfully cursed. He said that only those who knew of The Morrigan would know the story.”

  “I see. Well, Colette, it was a pleasure meeting you. You should get to your room before any other vampire comes out seeking a new food source.” His voice was distant, almost feral.

  She reached out tentatively, cupping Owain’s chin. Forcing him to look at her, she noticed the control he was exerting. Sweat poured down the sides of his face while his teeth elongated at will. “I thought you fed?”

  “I have. Vampire’s blood. It means that I have to fight his tendencies as his leftover psyche tries to play with my soul. It’ll pass, but you being here is more temptation than any male can take.”

  Colette released his chin hurriedly. “What do you mean by temptation?”

  Owain leaned forward. He inhaled her fragrance. “You. Are. Temptation. Blood, your sensualness, and more. You can make a vampire or mortal man want things that are better left untouched. Go now, Colette. Go before I do something I will regret.”

  Without thinking she kissed him firmly on his lips letting his incisors prick her lips. Then she pulled back. In the next second, she was out of his car and walking towards the entrance of the hotel.

  Damn but she does her own thing. I want her. But why would Niam tell her our story? What am I missing? Something shiny on the dark seat captured his gaze.

  There sitting on the seat was an ancient
torc. The same torc that Miach held in trust to be used only by the Druids in order to know if the woman they cared for was chosen by the Morrigan. How did it get there? Did Colette have it? Could she be one of the Morrigan’s daughters?

  He shook his head. There was no way that she could be, could there? Retrieving the torc, he allowed the dim light to shine upon it, highlighting the silver patina. The ends were shaped with two animals precious to the Celts- a raven and a dragon. This was in fact the torc entrusted to his brother, Miach. How did Colette get the necklace without causing an uproar?

  Flipping open his cell phone, he realized that it had gone dead. He had no idea when the last time he had recharged it or the last time he had checked in with his family. There were nine of them and they had rules about keeping in touch. Cursing, Owain realized that it had been quite a while since he called home. Looking up at the doorway, Owain decided to kill two birds with one stone and get some answers.

  Locking up the car, Owain turned towards the hotel entrance. Bounding up the steps quickly, he followed Colette’s scent that was now embedded in his memory. Ignoring the hotel staff, he made his way up each flight of stairs with barely any effort. When he arrived on the sixth floor, he found her scent again and followed it to a room at the end of the long ornate hall.

  He shouldn’t be there. He knew that the woman could be dangerous to him in more than one way. If she was indeed Morrigu’s daughter, then there was more to be dealt with than either of them knew. Carefully he knocked on the door. “Colette? It’s me, Owain. Let me in.”

  Colette peeked through her peephole and saw the man she was just thinking about standing there. How did he find her so easily, she wondered. Opening the door, she shooed Owain into her room. Once he filled the room with his presence, she asked him, “What are you doing here?”

  He picked up her phone. “I need to borrow your phone and we need to speak about this,” he replied tossing her the torc.

  Colette looked down at the necklace that his brother had given her to bear to Owain. Niam said it was important for him to have it now though she didn’t understand the reasoning. Hopefully, Owain could clear up all this mess for her. She watched him punch in some buttons and in fluent Egyptian Arabic, speak to the international operator. In moments, he was speaking to someone in Gaelic.