by N. P. Martin
Serpent Son
The Corvin Chance Chronicles Book 1
N. P. Martin
MJ Kraus
Muonic Press Inc
Contents
Rights
The Corvin Chance Chronicles
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
Chapter 21
Chapter 22
Chapter 23
Chapter 24
Chapter 25
Chapter 26
Chapter 27
Chapter 28
Chapter 29
Chapter 30
Chapter 31
The Corvin Chance Chronicles
Books By N. P. Martin
About The Author
Copyright © 2018 Muonic Press Inc
All rights reserved.
This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are products of the
author's imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead,
events, or locales is entirely coincidental.
The Corvin Chance Chronicles
Book 2
Now Available
1
They knew I was back. I don’t know how, but they did. Who? you might ask. Well, I might tell you who, but first I have to figure out who’s following me, and then do something about it, of course. Which means either losing the tail or confronting whoever is following me. At this point, as I walked along the Lower Ormond Quay with the River Liffey flowing to the right of me, I was more inclined to avoid whoever was following me. I’d only just arrived back in Dublin after a stay in London, and I was in no mood for confrontation.
I was picking up on goblin vibes, though I couldn’t be sure until I laid eyes on the cretin. I did, however, know that the Cabal employed goblins to do their dirty work for them, as the wiry little bastards were sneaky and good at blending in unseen.
As I moved down a deserted side street, hoping my pursuer would follow me down it, I weighed up my options. There were a number of spells I could use: I could create a doorway in one of the walls next to me and disappear into the building; or I could turn myself to vapor and disappear that way; or I could even levitate up to the roof of one of the nearby buildings and escape. Truthfully though, I didn’t like using magic in broad daylight, even if there was no one around. Hell, I hardly used magic at all, despite being gifted with a connection to the Void—the source of all magic—just like every other Touched being in the world. Despite my abilities, though, I was no wizard. I was just a musician who preferred to make magic through playing the guitar, real magic that touched the soul of the listener, and not the often destructive magic generated by the Void.
Still, Void magic could come in handy sometimes, like now as I spun around suddenly and said the word, "Impedio!" I felt the power of the Void flow through me as I said the word loudly, and as I looked down the street there appeared to be no one there.
Only I knew there was someone there. I walked quickly back down the street and then stopped by a dumpster on the side of the road. Crouched behind the dumpster was a small, wiry individual with dark hair and pinched features. He appeared frozen as he glared up at me, thanks to the spell I had used to stop him in his tracks, preventing him from moving even a muscle until I decided to release him.
"Let me guess," I said. "Iolas got wind I was coming back, so he sent you to what…follow me? Maybe kill me, like he had my mother killed?"
Anger threatened to rise up in me as blue magic sparked across my hand. Eight words, that’s all it would’ve taken to kill the frozen goblin in front of me, to shut down his life support system and render him dead in an instant. It would’ve been so easy to do, but I wasn’t a killer…at least not yet. If I was going to kill, it had to be the right person, and this creature before me was not the right person.
The goblin was straining against the spell I still held him in, hardly able to move a muscle. To an ordinary eye, the goblin appeared mundane, just a smallish, weasel-like man in his thirties with thinning hair and dark eyes that appeared to be too big for his face. To my Touched eye, however, I could see the goblin creature for what he really was underneath the glamor he used to conceal his true form, which to be honest, wasn’t that far away from the mundane form he presented to the world. His eyes were bigger and darker, his mouth wider and full of thin pointed teeth that jutted out at all angles, barely concealed by thick lips like two strips of rubber. His skin was also paler and his ears large and pointed.
"I don’t know what you’re talking about," the goblin said when I released him from the spell. He stood up straight, his head barely level with my chest. "I’m just out for a stroll on this fine summer evening, or at least I was before you accosted me like you did…"
I shook my head in disgust. What did I expect anyway, a full run down of his orders from Iolas? Of course he was going to play dumb, because he was dumb. He knew nothing, except that he had to follow me and probably report on my whereabouts afterward. Iolas being the paranoid wanker that he was, would want eyes on me the whole time now that I was back in town. Or at least until he could decide what to do with me, as he probably saw it.
"All right, asshole," I said as magic crackled in my hand, making the cocky goblin rather nervous, his huge eyes constantly flitting from my face to the magic in my hand. "Before you fuck of out of it, make sure Iolas gets this message, will you? Tell that stuck up elf…tell him…"
The goblin frowned, his dark eyes staring into me. "Go on, tell Iolas what?" He was goading me, the sneaky little shit. "That you’re coming for him? That you’re going to kill him for supposedly snuffing out your witch-bitch mother—"
Rage erupted in me then, and before the goblin could say another filthy word, I conjured me magic, thrusting my light-filled hand toward him while shouting the words, "Ignem exquiris!"
In an instant, a fireball about the size of a baseball exploded from my hand and hit the goblin square in the chest, the force of it slamming him back against the wall, the flames setting his clothes alight.
"Dholec maach!" the goblin screamed as he frantically slapped at his clothes in an effort to put the flames out.
"What were you saying again?" I cocked my head mockingly at him as if waiting for an answer.
"Dhon ogaach!" The goblin tore off his burning jacket and tossed it to the ground, then managed to put out the remaining flames still licking at his linen shirt. The smell of burnt fabric and roasted goblin skin now hung in the air between us.
"Yeah? You go fuck yourself as well, after you’ve apologized for insulting my mother."
The goblin snarled at me as he stood quivering with rage and shock. "You won’t last a day here, Wizard! Iolas will have you fed to the vamps!"
I shot forward and grabbed the goblin by the throat, thrusting him against the wall. "Firstly, I’m a musician, not a wizard, and secondly—" I had to turn my head away for a second, as the stench of burnt goblin flesh was atrocious to my nostrils. "Secondly, I’m not afraid of your elfin boss, or his vampire mates for that matter."
Struggling to speak with my hand still around his throat, the goblin said in a strangled voice, "Is that why…you ran away…like a…little bitch?"
I glared at the goblin for another second and then let h
im go, taking a step back as he slid down the wall slightly. His black eyes were still full of defiance. He was tenacious, I’d give him that.
"I’ve listened to enough of your shit, goblin," I said, forcing my anger down. "Turn on your heels and get the hell out of here, before I incinerate you altogether." I held my hand up to show him the flames that danced in my palm, eliciting a fearful look from him. "Go!"
The goblin didn’t need to be told twice. He pushed off the wall and walked quickly down the street, turning around after ten yards as he kept walking backward. "You’ve written your own death warrant coming back here, Chance," he shouted. "Iolas will have your head mounted above his fireplace!" His lips peeled back as he formed a rictus grin, then he turned around and ran, disappearing around the corner a moment later.
"Son of a bitch," I muttered as I stood shaking my head. Maybe it was a mistake coming back here, I thought. I should’ve stayed in London, played gigs every night, maybe headed to Europe or the States, Japan even. Instead, I came back to Ireland to tear open old wounds…and unavoidably no doubt, to make new ones.
Shaking my head once more at the way things were going already, I grabbed my guitar and luggage bag, and headed toward where I used to live, before my life was turned upside down two months ago, that is.
As I walked up the Quay alongside the turgid river, I took a moment to take in my surroundings. It was a balmy summer evening and the city appeared to be in a laid back mood as people walked around in their flimsy summer clothes, enjoying the weather, knowing it could revert back to dull and overcast at any time, as the Irish weather is want to do. Despite my earlier reservations, it felt good to be back. While I enjoyed London (as much as I could while mourning the death of my mother), Dublin was my home and always had been. I felt a connection to the land here that I felt nowhere else, and I’d been plenty of other places around the world.
Still, I hadn’t expected Iolas to be on me so soon. He had all but banished me from the city when I had accused him of orchestrating my mother’s murder. He was no doubt pissed when he heard I was coming back.
Fuck him, I thought as I neared my destination. If he thinks I’m going to allow him to get away with murder, he’s mistaken.
Just ahead of me was Chance’s Bookstore, the shop my mother opened over three decades ago, and which now belonged to me, along with the apartment above it. It was a medium-sized store with dark green wood panelling and a quaint sort of feel to it. It was also one of the oldest remaining independent book stores in the city, and the only one that dealt in rare occult books. Because of this, the store attracted a lot of Untouched with an interest in all things occult and magical. It also attracted its fair share of Touched, who knew the store as the place to go if you wanted to get a hard to find book on magic or some aspect of the occult. My mother, before she was killed, had managed to form contacts all over the world, and there was hardly a book she wasn’t able to get her hands on if someone requested it, for a price of course, and that price was often high, not just in terms of money, but in favors owed.
As I stood a moment in front of the shop, my mind awash with painful memories, I glanced at my reflection in the window, seeing a disheveled imposter standing there in need of a shave and a haircut, and probably also a change of clothes, my favorite dark jeans and waistcoat having hardly been off me in two months.
Looking away from my reflection, I opened the door to the shop and stepped inside, locking it behind me again. The smell of old paper and leather surrounded me immediately, soliciting more painful memories and a sense of deep sorrow, as images of my mother flashed through my mind. After closing my eyes for a second, I moved into the shop, every square inch of the place deeply familiar to me, connected to memories that threatened to come at me all at once.
Until they were interrupted that is, by a mass of swirling darkness near the back of the shop, out of which an equally dark figure emerged, two slightly glowing eyes glaring at me.
Then, before I could muster any magic or even say a word of surprise, the darkness surrounding the figure lashed out, hitting me so hard across the face I thought my jaw was broken, and I went reeling back, cursing the gods for clearly having it in for me today.
Welcome home, Corvin, I thought as I stood seeing stars. Welcome bloody home…
2
"You have some balls, Chance."
I dropped my bags on the floor. "Hello, Dalia," I said. "Good to see you again too. Did you miss me?"
The dark energy surrounding Dalia reached out again in an instant, slapping me hard across the face as surely as any hand would. "Jesus! Would you stop bloody hitting me, please?" I rubbed at my stinging right cheek.
Dalia made some sort of hissing sound in response, as if she wasn’t done yet. "I should drag you through the Thorns into the Otherworld and dump you there!"
Although she could entirely make good on her threat, I didn’t take her seriously. She was just pissed at me, as I had expected her to be. "Calm down, D, will you? I’ve already had a run in with a goblin and I’ve only been off the damn plane less than two hours."
"Serves you right," Dalia hissed, some the anger now gone from her voice thankfully. When I flicked the light switch, the darkness surrounding her shrank in response and finally dissipated.
I held my hands up. "I was expecting a warmer welcome than this."
"A warmer welcome? You think I should’ve had tea and biscuits waiting? Party balloons? Maybe if I’d known you were actually coming back…" Dalia continued to glare at me in her Fae form, which I found to be as unsettling as ever. A mass of flowing black robes rippled around her, and short, dark antlers jutted out either side of her head, making her look like a demonic deer. The slightly glowing yellow eyes set into her pale face, under which more darkness undulated, only added to the scary effect. The first time she revealed her Fae form to me five years ago, I nearly shit myself. She could be intimidating enough before she was kidnapped by the Fae and transformed, over time, into a Demifay. Now she was scary biscuits times ten, when she wanted to be anyway. Most of the time she remained in her mundane form, until her emotions got the better of her, like now.
She growled slightly as she glared at me. "I should imprison you in your own darkness right now for running off like that."
"I’d rather you didn’t, if you don’t mind." I crossed the room to the large wooden table that served as a counter, opening one of the drawers, happy to find the bottle of whiskey I was looking for. "And I didn’t run off. I told you in the message I sent you—"
"Oh yes, the message." Dalia was back in her mundane form as she walked toward me, dressed as always in black, her raven hair, which was red before she was taken to the Otherworld, falling wildly around her pale face. Her previous antagonism had now died down to a mild, simmering anger. "'D' you texted me, 'I’m going to be gone for a while. Please look after the shop for me. I don’t know when I’ll be back. Love, Corvin. P.S. If you’re going to drink the whiskey, make sure you replace it.'"
I smiled as I held the bottle up. "I see that you did. Thanks."
She shook her head and sighed, swiping the bottle from my hand so she could take a swig herself. "You’re a fucking asshole, running off like that, leaving me here to manage this place all alone, to deal with all those…people." Dalia wasn’t a huge fan of humans anymore, not since her transformative experience in the Otherworld. Aside from me, she tended to stick with her own kind—other Demifay who understood her. The only time she was interested in humans was when she was probing their inner darkness, which she did partly out of pure fascination, and partly for some sort of sustenance or balm that no one but a Fae would understand.
"I didn’t run off, I was—"
"Banished, yeah, I heard. It’s your own fault for rushing in. I told you to wait before confronting Iolas, didn’t I? You had no proof, nothing, just the emotions of a petulant child."
I shook my head at her, snatching the whiskey bottle back. "My mother was murdered. Sorry if I got a little e
motional…"
Dalia sighed, and then came and wrapped her arms around me, her warm embrace exactly what I needed right then. "Even though I still think you’re an asshole for running off, and even though I will never, ever forgive you for doing so, I’m glad you’re back. I’ve missed my best friend."
"Me too," I said, squeezing her tight. "Although, I’d appreciate it if you wouldn’t use your powers to slap me around again. That shit hurts, and it makes me feel less of a man, if I’m being honest."
"It’s supposed to, and you deserved it." She pulled away from me, a slightly wicked smile on her face now.
"I suppose I did."
"No supposing about it—you did. Was there some reason you couldn’t call to let me know where you where, and that you were okay?"
"I just needed to be alone, D, to grieve…"
"To grieve?" Dalia shook her head like I was talking shit. "There were things here that needed sorting out, like this shop, for one. It should’ve been you listening to the condolences of the customers, Corvin, not me…as much as I sometimes enjoyed the sweet scent of their tears and the particular texture of their private pain…" She coughed slightly. "Anyway, Teresa was…"
"Teresa was what?" I asked.
"Teresa was like a mother to me too. She took me in when there was no place left for me in my own family."
