by John Conroe
Fallen Stars
A novel of the Demon Accords
By John Conroe
For Barbara H. Conroe: 9/1/31 – 1/14/13
Contents
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
Chapter 32
Chapter 33
Chapter 34
Chapter 35
Chapter 36
Chapter 37
Chapter 38
Chapter 39
Chapter 40
Chapter 41
Chapter 42
Epilogue
This book is a work of fiction. All of the characters, organizations, and events portrayed in this novel either products of the author’s imagination or are used factiously.
Copyright © 2013 John Conroe
All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic, mechanical, recording or otherwise, without the prior written permission of the author.
The Demon Accords
God Touched
Demon Driven
Brutal Asset
Duel Nature
Fallen Stars
Chapter 1
“Badonkadonk? What the hell is a badonkadonk?” I asked my companion. We were standing in the parking lot of a country western bar in Asheville, North Carolina and the band inside was singing about honky tonk badonkadonks.
My partner sighed at my ignorance of country slang, swiveled on one foot, and pointed at her own anatomy. My eyes were directed by one slim finger to view a rather perfect female butt, clad in skintight jean shorts.
“Oh!” was my artful reply. I jerked my eyes back up to her smirking face, thanking the V-squared virus for darkening my skin to the point where a blush won’t show up.
“What’s the matter, hero? Why’s your face so hot?” she asked sweetly. Damn, forgot she could see thermal patterns as well as I could.
The problem was that Stacia was a magnificently attractive girl, as noted by a middle-aged fella who walked into the side of an F-150 pickup, much to the annoyance of his wife, as they approached the bar.
Being drop dead gorgeous wasn’t a crime so much as the fact that she was so in my face with it all the time. If I were single, it might be different. Would likely be different. Aw, hell, it would most definitely be different.
But I’m most assuredly not single. In fact, I’m bound tighter than bark to a tree to the most beautiful vampire on the planet. She also happens to be one of the most deadly creatures to roam our world. My companion Stacia’s not helpless; she is, after all, a werewolf. But against Tatiana Demidova, she would be a baby to an NFL linebacker. But Tanya wasn’t here, and I didn’t know when I would get to see her again. I still have a hard time picturing myself as a guy with more than one girl. Hell, for most of my life, I didn’t believe I could have even one girl. I’m the anti-player.
“Why are we meeting the Pack here?” I asked, looking away from her platinum-blonde-framed features and studying a couple of good ole boys who were studying Stacia.
“It’s neutral, well-populated, and apparently one of their regular spots,” she answered, her voice going matter-of-fact but her green eyes still gleaming. She checked the fall of her flowing white shirt, glanced down at her rich brown cowgirl boots, adjusted the brim of her straw cowboy hat, and then gave me a scowl. I knew what it was about.
“Don’t start. I’m not a cowboy, don’t own the boots, hats, the shirts, or the slip-string neckties. Besides, this isn’t bad is it?” I asked, waving one hand at my jeans, work boots and tee shirt.
She studied me critically, then smiled. “No, you’re fine. Better than fine, but I was just wishing your shirt was a bit more fitted—tighter.”
She spun around and headed toward the door, leaving me standing there looking stupid. Stupider. I watched for a split second, caught up in how her badonkadonk was swinging in time to the band’s beat, then shook myself. She knew I favored loose clothes. I have a hard enough time trying to stay under the radar. Emphasizing my V-squared-enhanced physique was so not helpful in that regard. Of course, Stacia failed to stay off anyone’s radar, and she preferred it that way.
I glanced at the third member of our little group, met his soulful brown eyes, and immediately got defensive. “What?”
Awasos looked away and then trotted to catch up with Stacia. On four large wolf feet, it only took him a couple of seconds.
I caught up with the both of them as the bouncer at the door was shaking his head.
“Absolutely not. No animals in the bar,” he said firmly. About six-four, two-hundred forty pounds, with a bald head and wearing all black, he looked more like a biker than a country-western type. Sitting on a stool, he had one size twelve engineer’s boot on the floor and one on the lowest rung.
“Please? He’s my guide dog,” Stacia pleaded, a sexy pout forming on her lips.
He looked like he might be wavering, but then I showed up and he got all by-the-book on us.
“No. Absolutely no animals,” he repeated.
“Hell, you’ll have to throw out half the customers if that’s true,” I said, looking past him at the rowdy crowd.
“Listen pal, those animals pay. This…monster doesn’t!”
Before he could go any further, Awasos jumped forward and pressed his nose up against the man’s leg. Then he backed his furry bulk up and gave one short chuff before spinning around and trotting back into the parking lot. The good ole boys who had followed us (well, Stacia, anyway) veered out of his way in a hurry. Something about Shetland-pony-sized wolves running at you will do that.
“Uh oh!” I said, watching my wolf disappear into the parked cars. “You’ve offended him. Shit! Not again!”
“Damn,” Stacia agreed softly. “Sorry, but it was your own fault for calling him a monster,” she directed at the bouncer.
“What? What’s he doing?” the big bald guy asked.
“He got your scent, so now he’s tracking down which car or truck is yours,” I said.
“What’s he gonna do when he finds it?” Baldy asked.
“Well, he kinda ate the last one,” I said regretfully.
“What!” Bouncer man took off into the parking lot at a dead run, pulling a key fob from his pocket as he went. Almost immediately, Awasos came running from the side of the parking lot, having circled around.
“Did you find it?” I asked him.
He woofed once softly.
“Did you pee on his radiator?”
Another woof.
“Good boy! Baked-on wolf pee has a half-life of like a year! Let’s go,” I said, ignoring the incredulous looks from the good ole boys.
I led the way through the door, my senses coming online as I entered potentially dangerous territory. Grim was lurking just below the surface of my awareness, ready to take over if things went to shit.
Awasos came next, just in front of Stac
ia, who sighed at our demonstration of aggressive tactical entry.
“You know, the purpose of a liaison is to liaise. Not hang back at the end of the line,” she complained.
“Humpf. The purpose of an industrial-grade monster smasher and his furry sidekick is to protect. We can’t do that from behind.”
Awasos woofed at me.
“What? You’re not the sidekick?”
He woofed again, making several people jump sideways. The panic left their eyes a bit when they saw he had directed it at me.
“Oh, so what? I suppose you think I’m your sidekick?” I questioned.
He woofed in agreement and trotted past me to take point.
“How does that feel, hero?” Stacia asked, watching me.
“About par for the course,” I answered, absently watching my furry pal point the way to the back of the giant bar, where a group of eight werewolves were playing pool and watching the booty-swinging girls on the dance floor. A couple of the ladies near the dance floor were also wolves, bringing the total number of weres to ten. My ability to spot vampires and weres wasn’t showing any other supernaturals in the place.
The group at the pool tables had spotted us, or at least Stacia. It was fun to watch their attention lock on her like guided missiles, then shift to the real wolf, then finally me. Their posture went from horny males to territorial wolves in a split second.
The bar was a wood-framed single-story structure that had a massive main dance floor with a stage centered along one wall. The entry had brought us in at one corner of the rectangular space, with the stage wall to our right and the fifty-foot oak bar ninety degrees to our left.
The pool tables were beyond the bar diagonally from where we stood, tucked into the far corner.
“Alrighty, Miss Liaison, shall we do this?” I asked.
“Let’s,” she agreed, moving up beside me.
Chapter 2
I checked out our potential clients as we worked our way around the thumping and bumping crowd on the dance floor.
One of the men was huge, easily dwarfing the bouncer we had bypassed at the door. He had to go close to six-ten, well over three hundred pounds, but I knew he wasn’t the leader, just muscle. Lots of it, though, straining his Toby Keith tee shirt to its limit.
No, I pegged the Alpha as the blond-haired guy with the beard who was seated at the table closest to the pool game. His gray eyes were focused completely on me, after sparing a glance at Stacia and the wolf. The others were either watching my liaison or my wolf, their expressions ranging from open admiration (for her) to shocked outrage (at him).
“Ned Granger? I’m Stacia Reynolds and this is Chris Gordon. My Alpha, Brock Mallek, sends his regards,” my partner said, walking straight past two of his pack and stopping directly in front of the bearded blond. Two female weres, one short brunette, the other a redhead of medium height, approached from the dance floor to our right, just slightly behind us.
The two front weres ignored Stacia but growled at my wolf in warning. He stopped and sat on his furry rump.
“Yo fellas, leave him be. He’s still a pup,” I said.
That caused them to look up and growl at me.
“That’s better,” I agreed, smiling.
Stacia spun and shot me a worried look, making a little settle down motion with her hand. I stopped, feet spread and arms crossed, standing just slightly ahead of my wolf. Awasos glanced at me then scooted his rump slightly forward till he was just ahead of me.
“Like, that is it?” I asked before looking back up at Stacia’s glare. “Oops, sorry. Go ahead, Stace.”
“Anyway, Brock sends his regards and hopes we can be of assistance,” she said to Ned. His expression was curious, neutral, and slightly tired.
“Welcome, Stacia and Chris. And who is this who comes to us in four-footed form?” he asked, a rebuke crouching somewhere in his words.
“This is Awasos, who only has four-footed forms,” I said evenly, understanding that weres don’t like to draw attention to their world by doing things like appearing in wolf form.
“What? What the hell does that mean?” said a lean six-footer standing just behind Granger and to his right. Granger was frowning, the hidden rebuke now fully visible on his face.
“Ah, he means that Awasos isn’t like us,” Stacia said. “He doesn’t have a person form.”
“I don’t do word puzzles, Mr. Gordon, Miss Reynolds. I simply don’t have any patience left for them,” Granger said, flicking his right index finger once.
The giant took two steps forward and grabbed me by the neck with both hands and lifted me straight off the ground. I weigh over two hundred pounds, but he didn’t seem to be straining at all. Stacia looked at me wide-eyed as I struggled to control Grim. Multiple death sequences were offered for my approval before giant-man foot had completed the first step. They ranged from crushing his skull to decapitation and arm removal. I vetoed all of them. Grim offered a non-death resulting version. I agreed. He executed it.
I suppose I was intended to squirm and holler, generally showing my helplessness. Instead, I went still as Grim turned my head to stare at Granger, the Alpha, even as his minion showed strain on his huge face and now trembling arms. Slowly, inexorably, his arms were pulled down, as if my weight had doubled, tripled, quadrupled in seconds. As if some unimaginable force was Pulling me down. Something, like, say, vampire energy techniques.
My feet touched ground and I grabbed his wrists, breaking his grip on my throat. Both my arms shot forward and slammed his steamer-trunk-sized chest. The big fella flew nicely, sailing over the pool tables and slamming into the wall in a very satisfying manner, crunching the sheetrock.
Next, Grim grabbed Stacia by the hips, picked her up, and put her behind us. The maneuver was fast but not full speed. Still, the pack looked shocked. Stacia sighed and walked back about twenty feet to sit on a table.
“What are you doing?” I asked, frowning.
“This is a new shirt. I don’t want it spattered with blood,” she said, starting to text on her phone.
The band had stopped playing when I threw the goliath. Now the entire bar watched as I held my conversation with Stacia. The wolves had started to move forward but stopped, puzzled, as I held up one hand but otherwise ignored them.
“Yeah, I get the new shirt thing, but you’re still too close. You need another fifteen or twenty feet to avoid blood sprays. Trust me. I know.”
“I’m good,” she said, not looking up this time. I sighed and turned back to the Pack.
“I tried to tell her, so it won’t be my fault, right?” I asked the growling group.
Before any of them could answer, the shorter female werewolf walked past me and slapped a very startled Ned Granger. She was a were, so the slap had real power. It almost knocked him out.
I stood, frozen, as did all the others, watching the confrontation. Granger was shocked and uncertain, never a good look for an Alpha. She swung her hand back to strike again.
“Rose, stop!” he said, grabbing her hand.
She yanked free, still spitting mad.
“You swore you would get help for our girls. You swore, Ned!” she shouted loud enough to echo across the bar.
“Afina told me that this man –" she pointed at me, “—could save our babies! And you attack him? I will, so help me God, leave your useless ass if you fail our children, Ned Granger!”
“Rose, I was just trying to get answers for him bringing a were in fur,” he said, on the defensive.
“The Malleks told us he was unusual…remember? They said he would have a different kind of companion and that he was insanely dangerous! And you had to play games with him?”
“Rose..” he began, but she spun away from him and approached me.
“Mr. Gordon, please help us—please help me? My babies are taken…in the hands of something evil and we can’t do anything to stop it,” she pleaded, grabbing my shoulder lightly, ignoring everyone around us.
“That’s
why we came, ma’am,” I said. If she was facing a demon problem involving children, I wasn’t going to abandon her. I was suddenly faced with the memory of a teenage girl slipping away from life, bleeding out in my arms. Her killer was equally dead, but I still ranked it as one of the worst failures of my life.
But my less-than-warm welcome had pissed me off.
“It’s the stupid posturing of an Alpha who can’t protect his own children,” she said. Behind her, Granger’s face was a painful mix of anger and anguish, but he said nothing.
I took a step back, studying the small, distraught woman in front of me. A bit over five feet tall, she was pleasant looking but not eye-catching like the redhead who was with her. And certainly nothing like Stacia, but she had a presence, a force of personality that I could literally feel.
I looked at Granger, who, despite the anger, looked more worried than I had ever seen an Alpha look. The others were also all worried and even scared. The hostility they had exhibited when we first walked up had been a mask for their other concerns.
