by C. Gockel
Petro said finally, “You spoke of romantic love, correct?”
“When?”
“When you said, ‘I love him! This is painful, and you just watch, like we’re some sort of entertainment! It’s vulgar! … It doesn’t matter if he doesn’t love me back. That’s not the point.’”
Aria stared at him, her breath coming fast. Not only were they her words, but it was her voice coming from his mouth, her pause while she’d wiped away tears, her breathless anger.
Petro’s eyes held hers. “You were referring to romantic love, were you not?”
She closed her eyes for a moment, trying to regain some semblance of equilibrium. “Mostly, yes. But I care for him as a friend too. And as a, well, I’d say human being, but he’s not. As a person of some kind, anyway.”
Petro’s nostrils flared a little. “You complicate things,” he said finally.
“Me?” Her voice rose.
“I require more information. That does not imply an intention to intervene in any further matters. I have fulfilled any obligations to you. You agree?”
“What are you studying?” She flung the question at him like a weapon.
He glanced away and then back at her. “I am not required to answer that question.”
“No, but you should.”
He looked at Owen again for a long moment, as if his answer would be found there. Finally, he said, “Choices interest me. Consequences may sometimes be interesting. Your lives are inconsequential. Expect no further assistance from me.”
She swallowed. It was more information than she could have hoped for, although she had no idea what it meant. “Agreed.”
He was gone.
She barely heard Owen’s long exhalation, but she saw the tension in his face. Cillian and Niamh turned away from her, trembling, and she couldn’t see their faces.
Aria spoke first. “What did you see that was so terrifying? I mean, he looked different, but it wasn’t scary, exactly. I already knew he wasn’t human.”
Niamh shook her head wordlessly, not looking up. Cillian pressed both his hands to his face for a long moment and took a deep, shuddering breath, still not willing to speak. Aria watched them, their reactions frightening her almost more than Petro had.
Owen took a steadying breath and said, “You couldn’t see that he was terrified?”
Aria frowned. “He was a little strange, I guess, but I didn’t see terrified. I saw precise and excruciatingly clear.”
“We saw stark terror. Related to you, but not your person, exactly.” He paused, watching Cillian and Niamh for their reactions. “I would guess it would be the ‘undesired consequences’ of setting you up to die.”
Cillian gave one sharp nod, but did not look up.
Niamh whispered, “Which means there are powers much greater than Petro. Powers great enough to terrify him.” She was still trembling, shoulders hunched as if she wanted to curl up into a ball.
Cillian ran his hands through his hair and shook out his shoulders, as if consciously deciding not to show his fear any longer. Yet he couldn’t hide that his hands were shaking. “If it terrifies Petro, I want no part of it.”
Aria thought for a moment. “What did you actually hear him say?”
Cillian and Niamh stared at each other, but Cillian answered. “Almost nothing. I heard your half of the conversation, and nothing while he was speaking. I did not see his lips move, nor feel the vibrations of his speech in the air. I heard ‘I must clarify things with you’ and ‘Expect no further assistance from me.’ That’s all.”
Niamh nodded agreement.
“How did you know he was terrified, then?” Aria asked.
Niamh hid her eyes again, and her voice shook as she answered. “It beat upon us in waves. He could not hide it, though his human form showed little sign of fear. He spoke to you, but he thought of fire and pain and a terrible screaming silence.”
Aria swallowed. “But he wasn’t afraid of me.”
Owen’s voice was faint. “No. Nor I think of El. Not exactly. It was as if he had veered too close to a precipice, and was correcting his course by speaking with you.” He hesitated. “I heard more, but perhaps not all of what he said. Choices, and changes in me.”
Cillian looked at his brother more closely. “Hm.”
Owen raised one eyebrow.
Finally, Cillian murmured, “It’s very subtle. I hadn’t noticed until you mentioned it. But I do see something different.”
“Different in what way?” Aria asked.
“I can’t yet tell. If anything, he seems more human.”
~FIN~
The Dragon’s Tongue, Book 2 in A Long-Forgotten Song, is available from your favorite retailer now.
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WAY OF THE WOLF
Shifter Legacies Book 1
Mark E. Cooper
His old life shattered, his new life is consumed with revenge…and love.
Dr. David Lephmann lived a normal existence until he was attacked by a shifter. Thrust into a world of violence and mistrust, he must battle for a place among his new people.
Only strange new alliances can keep him alive. A powerful master vampire may help him take his revenge on the shifter who destroyed his life. There's only one distraction from his mission: an intriguing shifter woman who opens up his world to werewolf romance.
With no way back to his old life, David has no choice but to bend to the rules of his new people. Can he survive the challenge?
Way of the Wolf is the first book in the Shifter Legacies dark fantasy paranormal series. If you like shifters or the work of Anne McCaffrey, Christine Feehan, and Lynsay Sands, then you'll love the tantalizingly action-packed story.
Part I
1
Arcadian
Professor Elliot Massey finished the last of his cognac before shrugging into his overcoat. It was late and he was the last one to leave again. He didn’t mind. He liked to spend the last hour or so alone going over the previous day’s results, it kept him up to date with what everyone was doing. He grinned as he remembered some of the rumours he had heard about his prodigious memory. His colleagues seemed to think him remarkable in the sorts of things he could recall about their work. They knew him as someone who oversaw them with a light hand; he wasn’t one to push himself into their research uninvited. So it seemed almost miraculous to them that he knew exactly what they were talking about with the minimum of explanations when they came to him with a problem. He of course, cultivated that persona assiduously.
Elliot put the glass away in his desk drawer, switched off his terminal, and made his way through the darkened lab to the door. He stopped at Sheryl’s work area to switch off her comp. She was always forgetting to do that. A few feet further on, he scooped up some of Dave’s papers and dropped them in his top drawer. He slammed the drawer closed and rattled it to make sure it had locked. Dave was the worst where security was concerned. Sheryl’s comp might have been on, but at least she had logged off before she left. Dave’s was dark, but he was always printing sensitive data and leaving it lying around.
Elliot took a last look around before exiting the lab. He patted his pockets listening for the jingle of his keys before punching in the alarm code on the keypad beside the door. The clunk of electronic bolts shooting home and the reassuring red light blinking upon the control panel informed him all was secure for the evening. Nonetheless, he worked the door handle out of habit then turned away toward the exit.
Outside he paused to turn up his collar against the evening chill. It wasn’t that cold, but he was beginning to feel it more as the years rolled by. He sighed, he was getting old. It happened to everyone eventually, but how had it happened so quickly? Where had his life gone, and what of his grand plans?
My god… you’re actually feeling sorry for yourself!
Elliot scowled at the thoughts going through his mind. He had n
othing to feel sorry for… well not regarding his career at any rate. His personal life was another matter. There were things he had not done that he wished he could change, but who didn’t have regrets? The biggest regret of his life was not spending more time with his wife while she lived. That most of all. But they hadn’t known her time was limited. How could they have known? They used to be so good together—a team at work and at home. Her assistance with his work in genetics had netted him the Nobel Prize in Physiology and Medicine way back in 2016. Maureen had been proud of him, he knew she had, but then cancer had stolen her from him and ripped her from the world before they could enjoy the fruits of their labour.
Elliot blinked rapidly trying not to let his burning eyes shed the tears they so wanted to shed. It wasn’t fair. It wasn’t fair that the goddess had taken Maureen from him so soon, but he had one consolation. She had left him their daughter to care for, not that Susan needed an old man’s help these days. She was grown and looking after him now. Elliot grinned, and then shook his head. She really should have left him to moulder alone and found her own way to love and happiness as he had done at her age, but he couldn’t find it in his heart to regret her continued presence. Looking at Susan was like looking at Maureen when they had first met. They looked so alike.
Elliot rammed his hands deeply into his coat pockets and hurried across the parking lot to his car. His black Mercedes was alone in an ocean of darkness. He shivered and increased his pace a little, but then he stumbled to a halt when one of the shadows came to life and resolved itself into the form of a man. The man did nothing, he simply watched and waited. After a brief hesitation, Elliot continued walking toward his car.
“Professor Massey?”
Elliot stopped fumbling for his keys and said warily, “Yes? Do I know you?”
“Cadmon Blake is my name, sir, we’ve never met. You missed your appointment with Arcadian. Perhaps you wish to reschedule?”
Elliot scowled and turned back to his car. He pointed the remote at the door and pressed the unlock button. “Mister Arcadian and I have nothing to discuss,” he said aiming the words over his shoulder.
“That is where you and he must differ. You should not have inconvenienced him; he doesn’t enjoy being kept waiting or made to look a fool.”
“And I did not enjoy our last conversation,” Elliot snapped and glared at the shadowy figure. “Neither am I enjoying this overly dramatic confrontation you have going, Mister Blake. Say what you want to say and be gone. My daughter is waiting up for me.”
“Ah yes,” Blake said and pursed his lips. He frowned, looking at the ground a moment before raising his eyes again. “Your daughter. How is she doing?”
Elliot gripped the open car door to prevent his hands shaking. “She’s fine.”
Blake closed the distance a little more. “You have spoken with her then?”
Elliot relaxed a little now as more of Blake’s face was revealed in the meagre light. There seemed nothing sinister in it. The face was clean shaven, the eyes a washed out grey. The man wore his hair in what he thought of as a military cut—short almost shaved at the sides, but longer and a little spiky on top. He looked bulky in his overcoat, but Elliot doubted it was due to fat.
“Professor?”
He blinked. “What? No, not today. Look, I have to get going. You tell Mister Arcadian we have nothing to talk about. Tell him not to call me. Tell him that if he keeps insisting on badgering me like this, I’ll call the authorities.” He began climbing into his car, but hands suddenly gripped his shoulders. Before he could yell, he was pulled roughly back out of the driver’s seat. His keys fell from his hand as he wrenched at Blake’s grip, but the man was built like a gorilla and he couldn’t break free. “What are you doing? Let me go, damn you!”
Blake pinned him with his back against the car. “Struggle and I’ll break your arm, Professor,” he said without the slightest trace of emotion in his voice.
Elliot froze.
“Thank you. I do not want to hurt you, sir, but I will if you make me. Arcadian wouldn’t like it if I did so, but if the choice is between you hurt, or me failing his orders, you can guess which I will choose. You can can’t you?”
He swallowed nervously and nodded.
Blake smiled his dead little smile. It didn’t reach his eyes. “I’m so very glad you understand my position. Arcadian can be a very hard master to serve. He does not take failure well. Now then, I take it you are unwilling to reschedule your meeting.”
“I suppose I could meet with him.”
“I do not believe you mean that. In anticipation of your reluctance, I’ve arranged for something to persuade you. Take this please.”
Elliot fumbled and nearly dropped the link Blake handed to him. “You want me to call him?”
“Use the speed dial. Press one and then the connect button.”
Elliot did and raised the link to his ear. It rang three times and was answered by a man’s voice.
“Blake, that you?”
“This is Professor Massey. I was told to call this number.”
Blake nodded in approval.
“One moment, sir,” the voice said. A minute of silence followed and then a familiar voice came on the line. “Daddy?”
“Susan!” Elliot glared at Blake. “Where are you, are you all right?”
“Of course I’m all right, silly! Mister Arcadian is a wonderful host. How come I didn’t know you two were friends?”
“I err… I must have forgotten to mention him. Where are you?”
“Waiting for you of course! Mister Arcadian was very worried when you missed dinner, but I said you were probably just working late and had forgotten the time. He said he would send someone to collect you. Did his friend find you all right?”
“I’m with his friend right now.”
“Oh good,” Susan said happily. “I’ll see you in a while then. Bye!”
“Wait!” he said, but the line went dead. “You bastard.”
Blake took back his link and slipped it into a pocket. “Insulting me will not help matters, Professor. Arcadian wishes to meet with you tonight. I suggest for your daughter’s sake and your own that you come with me quietly. I have a car waiting.”
Elliot couldn’t see that he had any choice. He followed Blake as he led the way to his car. Blake opened the rear door of a silver four door Jaguar parked not far from the parking lot’s exit. Elliot climbed inside and Blake followed him in. Their driver didn’t speak or even look their way as they settled themselves. He simply piloted the car smoothly out of the lot and into the sparse traffic.
Elliot sat in uncomfortable silence for the entire journey. A couple of times he nearly blurted the questions crowding his brain, but he always held back and left them unvoiced. He had a feeling that Blake wouldn’t tell him even if he knew the answers. With no hope of enlightenment, asking questions would only make his position appear weak. He almost laughed aloud at that. He was being kidnapped, his daughter held ransom to his good behaviour. How much weaker could his position get?
That was a question soon answered.
He had taken no notice of his surroundings during the journey, but remedied that when he felt the car pull off the highway onto a narrow country lane. The car’s suspension was superb and turned what was a terrible surface into a tolerable one. Still, the driver was cognisant of the conditions, and had slowed down to pilot the car safely along the winding turns. The headlights revealed that trees and other vegetation encroached upon the little used lane. There was barely enough room for the car to pass without twigs and branches flensing away its paint.
He eyed his surroundings uneasily.
If Blake had wanted to kill him, he would be dead already, of that he had no doubt, but he could think of no better place to dump a body than this. Left here, he would never be found. He glanced uneasily at Blake only to find the man’s amused countenance already turned his way. He had obviously deduced his concern and it amused him.
“I ha
ve already mentioned that Arcadian would take it amiss should you come to harm, Professor.”
“But what about after the meeting?”
Blake’s smile widened and Elliot shivered.
It was as he thought. Mister Arcadian was a man that no one said no to. He had little doubt that whatever the man wanted from him would be unacceptable, but he also knew that the consequences of his refusal would be dire. If it was only his own life at risk, he would have told Arcadian to go hang, but he had Susan to think of. Whatever he had to do to safeguard his daughter, he would do. Arcadian, that bastard, knew it.
The car slowed to a crawl and turned left. A few yards on it halted in front of a pair of tall iron gates. Elliot peered out of his window. He could just make out a high wall mostly obscured by shadows and overgrown vegetation. It was obviously old; it was weathered and covered in clinging vine-like creepers, but the iron gates set into it looked brand new. A man occupying a security booth stepped out and bent to speak with the driver. A few words were exchanged between them and the guard went back inside to open the gates. They were motorised and slid aside on silent bearings into slots cut into the wall. The car eased through the portal and along a driveway toward a large house that he had no problem terming a mansion. The place was huge with many windows blazing cheerily with light. The car stopped opposite the main door of the house. Blake gestured to indicate he should climb out, and joined him a moment later.
The car pulled away, its tyres crunching on the loose gravel driveway, and was soon lost to the night.
“Now what?”
As answer, Blake led him to the door which opened as they neared to reveal a man waiting to welcome them. Light flooded out into the night and the sound of music. He could hear the sounds of laughter and many voices. Obviously there was a party of some sort going on. He stepped inside followed closely by Blake, expecting an introduction to the waiting man, but his surmise that this dapper gentleman was Mister Arcadian was false. He was simply another of Arcadian’s employees—this time playing butler not kidnapper. The butler, if that’s what he was meant to be, was wearing a well-tailored suit of dark grey wool, the silk tie knotted at his throat was a blood red, and the creases in his trousers were so sharp they could probably cut like a knife. He had mousy blond hair parted neatly on the left and very pale blue eyes almost colourless. He was quite short and slim, especially in comparison to Blake who was easily head and shoulders taller. Elliot found himself in the middle position of looking up at Blake and down at the butler.
