by K. A. M'Lady
Table of Contents
Dedication:
Prologue
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
Chapter Eleven
Chapter Twelve
Chapter Thirteen
Chapter Fourteen
Chapter Fifteen
Chapter Sixteen
Chapter Seventeen
Chapter Eighteen
Chapter Nineteen
Chapter Twenty
Chapter Twenty-One
Chapter Twenty-Two
Chapter Twenty-Three
Chapter Twenty-Four
Chapter Twenty-Five
Epilogue
K. A. M’Lady
Published by Mojocastle Press, LLC
Haymarket, Virginia
This book is a work of fiction. Any resemblance to actual events, locales or persons, living or dead, is completely coincidental.
Realm: Book One - To Tell Of Darkness
ISBN: 978-1-60180-012-1
Copyright @ 2007 K. A. M’Lady
Cover Art Copyright @ 2007 Vanessa Hawthorne
All rights reserved.
Excluding legitimate review sites and review publications, the reproduction or utilization of this work in whole or in part in any form by any electronic, mechanical or other means, now known or hereafter invented, is forbidden without the written permission of the publisher.
Copying, scanning, uploading, selling and distribution of this book via the Internet or any other means without permission from the publisher is illegal, punishable by law and will be prosecuted.
Available online at:
http://www.mojocastle.com/
Dedication:
For Patrick ~ the only sis who’d let me call her such a dude name--for being there, thick and thin and being the best damned sister and best friend a girl could ask for. For always believing.
For TM ~ don’t say I didn’t warn you, then laughing when I went over the top--hope you love the catsuit.
For Tontarosie ~ who’s always a creature of inspiration for my muse--past and present. And finally, to my mom--for remembering all those stories written as a child, and the smile your voice held.
Prologue
Some creatures are born into an existence where the lines of life and death, right and wrong are experienced only in shades of black and white. Existences where life is as easy as a mother’s love or a father’s warm embrace. They live in relative safety behind their familiar walls with the warmth and comfort of hearth and home on some clean street in a rural community; where love is always present and the violence of crime and man’s depravity can’t touch them; a place where evil and all the dark creatures that go bump in the night are just fairy tales told on stormy evenings to frighten young children in their dreams.
But have you ever wondered what happens when the lines bleed and the creatures bump back? Ever wondered who is there in the dead of night when the monster is the closet is real, and he’s come with a hunger? Worried that he knows your name?
My name is Rihker Tennai. In the Other World, they call me Justice--and this is my Realm…
To my eye the pleasures of the world are nothing but dust.
Except for blood, what else flows in the guts?
Twilight in Delhi, Mirza Asadullah Khan Ghalib Translated from the Urdu by R. Parthasarathy
Chapter One
“I say we kill the bitch. Boil her for stew and gnash on her bones.”
Piercing coal-black eyes and the odorous stench of rotting garbage was all that had accompanied that snarling statement. It was enough to make any sane person’s stomach lurch.
Apparently I’d left sane behind eons ago.
I guess you could say the slobbering had officially commenced, and there was just too much damned glee rumbling around in that comment for my peace of mind. But as a chill wind swept up my spine and as I looked into the hatred that stared back at me, even I could comprehend that peace wasn’t to be forthcoming anytime soon.
Never being the kind of girl to sit on her laurels while the bad Ogres were making dinner reservations, I figured now would be a good time for me to start kicking some Ogre ass. It’s just too bad the monsters had other ideas.
I knew it was going to be a long night, as light was exploding behind my eyes and my head rocked backwards against the unforgiving blacktop. I was definitely rethinking my strategy on this night’s events; the coarse rubble grinding beneath my head was definitely not a pillow of down, and at the rate Glum and Rad, the Ogre Brothers Grimm, were at it, they were going to leave my skull indented into its cold, dark blackness if I didn’t do something about it.
“Get the fuck off me, Glum, or I swear I’m gonna bust all your damned teeth out and you’ll be gnawing your meals ‘til the second coming.” I wheezed the words out between clenched teeth, my eyes beginning to bulge in my sockets.
Glum had one hand wrapped firmly around my throat and was sitting on my abdomen as his nappy, hound-toothed brother fought to get a hold of my flailing legs.
“Oooh, look, Rad. Pretty Justice is getting angry.” Spittle oozed out between Glum’s razor-sharp teeth as he continued to pound my head into the pavement. By the rankness of his breath, he obviously had never considered oral hygiene either.
Some days I just did not get paid enough to do this job.
I swore if I ever got free of these two idiots, I was going to kick Gimlit’s ass for agreeing to this bounty. Whether Gimlit was kin to these two oafs or not, he deserved the future ass kicking just for being of the same breed.
Gimlit’s an Ogre, my Ogre, to be exact. He’s my keeper, my business manager and my Watcher. Basically, he’s my all-around pain in the ass. He found me in the forest when I was a baby and rather than eat me, as Ogres are wont to do, he decided to keep me.
Of course my mother had to agree--which the bitch did--but that’s a story for another time, like when I’m not getting my ass kicked for trying to collect a bounty for the Silent Court.
Since a pay raise wasn’t materializing through the twilight, this Hunter figured she’d better do something before she was ground up for bread. And I knew I certainly wasn’t going down without a serious fight. So I kicked Rad in the face before his brother could cut off the last of my oxygen supply.
It wasn’t quite a direct hit, but Rad’s nose exploded in a fissure of blood. Score one for persistent Hunters everywhere!
Rad rocked backwards, grabbing his spouting nose as he began to yelp and grunt like a beagle on rabbit trail. The yipping and howling startled Glum just enough for me to reach my side sheath and the bear mace I carried for Ogre hunting. Different species, sure, but when big, mean and gnarly wants to eat you because he’s pissed off and hungry enough--it works just as well.
I grabbed the can and shook it like my life depended on it--which at the moment, it did--as I fought to get out of Glum’s reach. His eyes went round as he spied the black can with bold red lettering. Then I held my breath, closed my eyes and let the spray rip.
It was obviously a direct hit because as Glum started bellering in agony, he swung out madly in a fit of fury. All I saw coming as I peeked my eyes open was his giant fist. It connected--just barely, thank the Prophets--but it was enough to skim by my shoulder as I turned on my side and rolled. I tried to shove him in the opposite direction as I went.
It felt like I was pushing against a bull moose, but I managed to wriggle out from beneath him. He was too busy whining and bitchin
g as his eyes poured pain-filled tears from the mace.
It felt like he’d dislocated my shoulder, but luckily it was still attached and functioning--sort of. I think. Let me tell you, getting whacked by an Ogre fucking hurts.
I rolled to a crouch as I pulled the sickle axes I carried in sheaths at my back. The twinge in my arm was noticeable, but thirteen and a quarter inches of cold, hard steel gleamed in the darkness. I smiled just a little.
The blades were a bit archaic, to be sure. But these were my weapons. I practiced with them, ate with them strapped to my back, hell, I even slept with them. A girl couldn’t be too cautious. One in my line of work never knew what might slither its way out of the darkness. Or out from under one’s bed.
As I looked out into the tranquil night, my blood stilled in my veins. My breath seemed to cease, and the world around us paused and listened for the beat of my heart. In that moment, the Ogre Brothers knew I would kill with them. Without thought, hesitation or mercy.
It was a red-letter day.
“Look, Glum, pretty Justice has red eyes, silvery red eyes. Like blood on the moon,” Rad whispered, nudging his brother in the gut. His words hung suspended in the quiet that surrounded us. It seemed for the first time, Rad was finally afraid that the monster in the darkness was coming after him.
I stood slowly, my muscles twitching beneath my skin. I was wound so tightly I could almost feel the currents of electricity pooling in the air around me. The night seemed filled with power, and was gathering in the storm that was centered in my body.
I was tired of this chase. Tired of being an Ogre punching bag. This jig was definitely up, and it was time to put these monsters to bed. “Well, boys, we can do this the easy way--or I can give it to you hard and dirty,” I said, clutching my axes as I started to whirl them in a circular motion. They began to whistle as the momentum increased with intensity. “So what’s it gonna be?”
They bum-rushed me, just like I knew they would. Ogres were so predictable. Rad was bent forward at the waist, rushing me like a bull. All I had to do was swing. I put the full force of my body weight into the momentum like Babe Ruth’s five-hundredth home run.
One well-placed crack across the front of his skull and he hit the ground running.
Glum, on the other hand, drove right on past me. It was like NASCAR Thunder in full fury. When he finally realized he’d missed his mark and ground to a halt, he was so pissed he was puffing and spitting. “Bitch! You killed me brother Rad. Glum will rip out your green hair and pull off your head! I will suck out your brain through your eye sockets. I will rip off your arms and gnash on your bones.”
“Oh, get on with it already, would you?” The drama was killing me.
His roar scattered the nearest birds hovering in the trees. Since we were on the outskirts of the city and in the parking lot of some off-the-highway gas station out on Interstate Ninety, I didn’t really sweat him scaring away the innocents. Tonight they could worry about themselves.
“And if you touch my hair, big and smelly, I swear I’ll bust your ass!” I warned. “Now, you gonna let me take you in peacefully, or are we gonna continue to do this the hard way?”
His groan as he charged me was his only reply.
As he rushed me again, I was ready for him. I even had a plan all worked out. I’d meet him halfway, catch him off-guard. A well-placed kick here, a hard crack to the neck there, and out like a light.
Too bad my father’s magic chose now to be the time for my next Tell to come through.
It felt like a fire bolt sliced through my palms and zinged its way through my fingertips before the bright glow of white exploded, blinding me for a split second. The next thing I knew I was standing in the darkness, axes on the ground at my feet with Glum ten feet in front of me, singed a disgusting shade of soot on soot. His clothes were smoldering, and his bald head steamed in the quickly cooling darkness.
Charbroiled Ogre. The stench was nauseating.
“Glum go peaceful, Lady Justice,” he mumbled. His hands were out in front of him, waiting for me to cuff him and take him in. He hung his head low and defeat colored his now black-streaked face.
I felt like I could puke. I’d nearly torched an Ogre, and I wasn’t even sure how I’d done it. One minute I was standing there watching him charge towards me, and the next, the axes in my hands were too hot to touch as a silver ball of heat smoldered in my hands and then erupted from my palms.
I threw them at Glum.
Well, what the hell else was I supposed to do? Let him take me out? Not bloody likely.
I swear when I find my dad, I’m kicking his ass too. Talk about your otherworldly genetically dysfunctional family. If I didn’t need this blood in my veins, I might just consider giving it to some damned Vamp.
Ever closer the grenade exploding by my operated skull,
Like birds my severed limbs fly off into the distance
From Fifteen Songs, Otto’ Orban
Translated from the Hungarian by George Szirtes
Chapter Two
“Hurry up and pull me in.” The way Bane was whining, Spit wasn’t sure this was a good idea. It was her first foray into the Other World as a Werewolf. He was supposed to be her guardian--her pseudo AA member for the newly unfortunate furry--and the more he thought about it, the more he knew bringing her to the underground club was a bad idea.
“Maybe we should forget about this.” He ran his hand through the curls of his soft brown hair as he peered out the window, concerned.
“Spit, if you don’t pull me in this window right now, I swear to you we are never having sex again.” She was glowering at him, hands on her small waist. The swell of soft, creamy breasts as they peeked out of her low-cut shirt made his breath catch. He was doomed. Just the thought of having sex with Bane was making him hard.
He reached out the window and quickly pulled her in.
“See, that wasn’t so difficult,” she said, smoothing down the edges of her tight black skirt.
Spit watched the way her small hands traveled the contours of her shapely hips and a low growl escaped him. She was releasing pheromones, and she didn’t even know it. He knew this was a bad idea. She was too newly turned. She had no control. Hell, he had no control, come to think of it. He wanted her. Right now, this very minute.
Bane watched Spit’s pale green eyes turn to gold as he watched her in the length of the mirror. They had just snuck in the bathroom window of Silence on the Moor.
It was only the place to be and be seen in the Other World. But despite the posh atmosphere, or maybe because of it, Spit had a strange come-fuck-me look in his eyes. The thought of doing it right here, right now, made Bane’s body tight with want.
As her warm, earthy growl rolled from her throat in acceptance, Spit was on her before she could consider the possibilities of someone walking in on them.
He whirled her around to face him, his lips finding hers in a breath-stealing kiss that made her toes curl. Their lust roared out of control.
Her heart was slamming in her chest in wild rhythm to the music that was pouring through the walls, Spit’s hands hot on her over-sensitized flesh. They found their way up the undersides of her breasts, tearing open her shirt, and she swore she felt the earth move.
She chalked it up to the burning need pouring through her, and the new Werewolf senses being on overdrive as his fingers found the tight peaks of her nipples and she moaned with need.
They were hell bent for pleasure. Spit had her skirt pulled up, her legs wrapped around his waist and was just about to reach fulfillment when the ground beneath them exploded.
“What the fuck!” Spit shouted as dust and rubble rained down around them. His eyes filled with horror as he looked in the mirror, catching a glimpse of the macabre creature’s reflection.
“Mother and the Prophet!” he exclaimed as Bane watched the color drain from his face.
He started to turn, to push Bane away from whatever had blown a hole through the floor. She co
uldn’t see around him as he set her feet on the floor. He was blocking her view, trying to protect her from whatever horror she swore she’d caught a glimpse of.
Before she knew what was happening, something with five-inch claws grabbed him by the torso and flung him across the room. His body slammed into the wall like a boneless sack of flesh. Blood exploded from his arm and across his back in a spray like a punctured water balloon.
The creature turned its soulless black eyes towards her. It stood twelve feet in height, its head just missing the ceiling. Sharp, pointed teeth glistened in the fluorescent light. Its skin oozed and pussed like an open, bloody wound.
All Bane could do was scream. She stood in the bathroom, skirt shoved to her waist, blouse ripped open as she clung to the sink and screamed until her throat was hoarse; praying that someone would help them.
As the creature turned in slow motion towards her, its hunger and need emanating from the darkness of its eyes, it swiped its clawed fingers across her throat. Her scream faded as her lifeblood poured in a fount out of her throat, down her chest, to pool on the ground at her feet.
The creature stood mesmerized, watching the blood flow in gushing rivulets; captivated by the dance of death. It tilted its head first this way, then that, almost admiring the way the light caught the crimson. Grabbing one of the girl’s arms, it ripped it from her body and slammed it against the mirror, shattering it in a web of splintered shards before carelessly flinging it across the room. Then it plunged its clawed hands into her belly, ripping her open. Her insides spilled out like a dark coil of writhing snakes; wet and slithering as if from the womb of their shell. The girl fell to the floor in a bloody heap.
Spit lay slumped against the wall, too wounded to move or speak. He didn’t dare even blink for fear the ungodly thing would turn on him again. He slouched against the wall, fear like a double-edged sword through his heart. He watched in horror as the creature bent to consume Bane’s internal organs. Halfway into its feeding frenzy, a burst of light, brighter than the fullest moon on the darkest night, exploded in the room, causing him to close his eyes in fear. He was certain if he opened them, it would surely mean his death.
